- 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


"MS? 


OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 


THE    HONORABLE    MRS.    GRAHAM,    BY   THOMAS   GAINSBOROUGH. 


NATIONAL  GVLt.ERV   Ol-    SCOTLAND,    EDINBURGH. 


OLD 

ENGLISH 

MASTERS 

ENGRAVED   BY 

TIMOTHY  COLE 

WITH   HISTORICAL  NOTES   BY 

JOHN  C.  VAN   DYKE 

AND  COMMENTS  BY   THE  ENGRAVER 


**»tftf~.b 


NEW  YORK  :  THE  CENTURY  CO. 
1902 


^CTTSS^S 


®m&®3/8® 


146589 


■  . 


Copyright,  1896,  1897,  1898, 
1899,  1900,  1901,  1902,  by 

THE    CENTURY   CO. 
Published  October,  1902 


THE  DE  VINNE   PRESS 


Iibmrx 


PREFACE 

IT  is  now  many  years  since  Timothy  Cole  began  his  series  of 
wood-engravings  after  the  old  masters  of  painting.  His  first 
essay  was  in  the  field  of  Italian  art.  After  engraving  nearly 
seventy  of  the  great  Italian  pictures,  he  turned  his  attention  to  the 
Dutchmen  and  Flemings  at  Amsterdam  and  Antwerp.  How  suc- 
cessfully he  translated  the  art  of  the  Netherlands  is  shown  in  the 
thirty  engravings  after  Rembrandt,  Rubens,  Van  Dyck,  and  others, 
which  make  up  the  second  volume  of  the  series.  When  he  had 
•j  finished  with   the  Dutchmen,   Mr.   Cole  crossed    the    Channel   to 

undertake  the  eighteenth-century  painters  of  England.  Since  1894 
he  has  been  constantly  engaged  in  cutting  blocks  after  the  famous 
portraits  of  Reynolds,  Gainsborough,  Romney,  and  others  and  the 
landscapes  of  Turner,  Constable,  and  their  contemporaries.  The 
present  volume  contains  some  forty-eight  examples  of  his  work, 
and  represents  the  more  prominent  of  the  older  painters  of  Great 
Britain,  from  Hogarth  to  Landseer. 

The  series,  in  which  this  is  the  third  volume,  cannot  be  regarded 
as  other  than  monumental.  No  such  translation  of  old  pictures 
has  ever  been  attempted  heretofore ;  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  no 
similar  translation  will  ever  be  attempted  hereafter.  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  there  is  a  living  engraver  on  wood,  save  Mr.  Cole,  equal  to 
the  task.  The  value  of  his  work  —  the  value  of  wood-engraving 
itself — is  in  no  way  lessened  by  the  existence  of  photographic  pro- 
cesses of  reproduction.  That  the  public  is  willing  to  accept  a  photo- 
graph, or  that  it  puts  up  with  the  infirmities  of  the  half-tone,  is  no 
argument  against  the  wood-engraving.     There  has  yet  to  be  de- 


v 


VI  PREFACE 

vised  a  mechanical  process  that  will  render  the  exact  values  of 
tones  like  the  lines  of  the  graver — the  pure  black  beside  the  pure 
white.  The  subtile  colors  of  a  robe  under  light  and  shade,  the 
mysterious  quality  of  a  half-light,  are  things  that  no  lens  will  deter- 
mine so  accurately  as  the  human  eye.  The  process  blurs  and  slurs 
them  where  the  engraving  reveals  them.  Moreover,  the  excellencies 
that  lie  in  the  photograph  the  engraver  already  possesses.  His 
picture  is  always  photographed  upon  the  block,  and  it  is  upon  this 
block-photograph  that  he  works.  Indeed,  it  is  no  inconsiderable 
part  of  his  craft  nowadays  to  amend  the  faults  of  the  photograph — 
to  add  where  it  omits,  and  to  modify  where  it  distorts.  With  Mr. 
Cole  it  may  be  said  that  while  he  uses  the  photograph  he  does  not 
accept  it  as  final  by  any  means.  In  each  and  every  case  he  has 
worked  with  the  original  picture  before  him — the  ultimate  appeal, 
in  any  questionable  case,  being  made  to  the  original.  So  it  would 
seem  that  on  the  score  of  truth  alone  the  engraving  is  not  to  be 
put  down  in  favor  of  any  mechanism  yet  known  to  the  arts. 

But  linear  truth  or  tonal  truth  is  not  the  only  aim  of  wood- 
engraving.  The  engraver  is  an  individuality,  not  a  machine  ;  and 
if  he  have  the  artistic  sense  he  may  be  a  translator,  an  interpreter, 
of  a  painter's  sensitiveness  or  mood  or  feeling.  A  way  of  looking 
at  things  and  a  method  of  working  may  bring  the  life  and  spirit 
of  the  original  before  one  with  great  vividness.  The  "  Parson's 
Daughter,"  by  Romney,  for  instance,  is  a  picture  of  much  grace, 
loveliness,  and  girlish  charm.  Turn  to  Mr.  Cole's  engraving  of  it 
in  this  volume,  and  see  how  cleverly  he  has  rendered  these  qualities 
by  the  subtile,  flowing  lines  of  the  graver.  Follow  the  minute  lines 
that  wave  across  the  face  and  hair  and  melt  into  the  background, 
and,  aside  from  their  rendering  of  delicate  color-notes,  what  a  sense 
of  rhythm  and  melody  those  lines  reveal!  And  for  another  example 
of  a  different  character,  turn  to  the  engraving  of  "  Lord  Newton," 
by  Raeburn,  and  see  how  well  the  ponderous  bulk  and  insistent 
force  of  the  sitter  have  been  suggested  by  the  square  and  broken 
lines  across  the  face  and  the  free  open  lines  across  the  robe.  It  is 
in  just  such  qualities  as  these  that  the  engraver  rises  above  the 


PREFACE  Vll 

copyist  and  becomes  himself  an  artist.  And  surely  it  is  not  too 
much  to  claim  the  artist  in  Mr.  Cole.  The  engravings  in  this 
volume  alone  should  give  it  proof. 

In  the  selection  of  painters  for  representation,  the  title  "Old 
English  Masters"  was  thought  to  be  broad  enough  to  include  a 
Scotchman  like  Raeburn,  who  was  English  in  his  art,  and  narrow 
enough  to  shut  out  an  Englishman  like  Bonington,  who  was  French 
in  his  art.  The  endeavor  was  to  pick  the  best  men  of  the  best 
period — the  period  from  about  175010  1850.  The  painters  who 
flourished  in  that  blossoming-time  of  English  art  were  primarily 
painters  of  the  portrait,  the  landscape,  and  the  genre  piece.  The 
pictures  which  Mr.  Cole  has  engraved  represent  them  in  these  sub- 
jects. In  every  case  the  example  chosen  shows  the  painter  at  his 
best  or  is  designed  to  show  him  in  a  different  style  or  certain 
period  of  his  career.  The  private  houses  of  England  and  Scotland 
were  specially  invaded  to  secure  many  of  these  pictures,  and  in  this 
connection  acknowledgment  should  be  made  of  the  great  courtesy 
and  kindness  shown  by  the  owners  of  the  pictures  in  placing  them  at 
the  service  of  the  engraver.  It  is  proper  also  at  this  time  to  thank, 
for  good  counsel  in  the  matter  of  selecting  the  painters  and  their 
pictures,  Mr.  Sidney  Colvin,  Sir  Edward  J.  Poynter,  Mr.  Lionel  Cust, 
Mr.  Holmes  of  Windsor,  Mr.  Strong  of  Chatsworth,  Mr.  Reeve  of 
Norwich,  Mr.  Charles  Fairfax  Murray,  Mr.  Martin  Colnaghi,  Mr. 
Pennell,  and  Mr.  Whistler. 

The  text  that  accompanies  the  engravings  is  designed  to  recite 
not  only  the  life  of  the  individual  painter,  but  to  suggest  the  time 
and  the  circumstance  of  this  eighteenth-century  art.  Mr.  Cole's 
comments  on  the  pictures,  which  he  has  so  carefully  studied  in  the 
process  of  engraving,  have  a  special  interest  of  their  own,  and  will 
be  appreciated  by  art-lovers  as  well  as  by  artists. 

John  C.  Van  Dyke. 

Rutgers  College,  1901. 


CONTENTS 


PAGR 

Old  English  Masters:  A  Note  on  English  Art      ...  i 


CHAPTER   I 
William  Hogarth 13 

CHAPTER   II 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds     31 

CHAPTER   III 
Thomas  Gainsborough 49 

CHAPTER   IV 
Richard  Wilson 67 

CHAPTER   V 
George  Romney 77 

CHAPTER  VI 
John  Hoppner 91 

CHAPTER  VII 
Sir  William  Beechey 101 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER   VIII 

PAGE 

Sir  Henry  Raeburn , 109 

CHAPTER   IX 
John  Opie 121 

CHAPTER  X 

George  Morland .        129 

CHAPTER   XI 
John  Crome .0        139 

CHAPTER   XII 
John.  Sell  Cotman 149 

CHAPTER   XIII 
Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  . 159 

CHAPTER   XIV 
Joseph  Mallord  William  Turner 173 

CHAPTER   XV 
John  Constable 189 

CHAPTER   XVI 
Sir  David  Wilkie .'    .'       201 

CHAPTER   XVII 
Charles  Robert  Leslie 211 

CHAPTER   XVIII 
Sir  Edwin  Henry  Landseer 217 


INDEX    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 
Gainsborough,  The  Honorable  Mrs.  Graham   ....  Frontispiece 

National  Gallery  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh 

FACING    PACE 

Hogarth,  Marriage  a  la  Mode  (Detail) 16 

National  Gallery,  London 

Hogarth,  Portrait  of  Himself 21 

National  Portrait  Gallery,  London 

Hogarth,  Garrick  and  his  Wife 24 

Windsor  Castle 

Hogarth,  The  Shrimp  Girl  (A  Sketch) 28 

National  Gallery,  London 

Reynolds,  Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devonshire 33 

Collection  of  Earl  Spencer,  Althorp 

Reynolds,  Portrait  of  Lord  Heathfield 36 

National  Gallery,  London 

Reynolds,  Duchess  of  Devonshire  and  Child 40 

Collection  of  Duke  of  Devonshire,  Chatsworth 

Reynolds,  Lady  Cockburn  and  Family 45 

National  Gallery,  London 

Gainsborough,  The  Sisters  —  Mrs.  Sheridan  and  Mrs.  Tickell    53 

Duhvich  Gallery 

Gainsborough,  Portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddons 60 

National  Gallery,  London 

Gainsborough,  The  Watering  Place 65 

National  Gallery,  London 

Wilson,  Cicero's  Villa 71 

Owned  by  Thomas  Agnew  &  Sons,  London 


Xll  INDEX    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING   PAGE 

Wilson,  On  the  River  Wye 74 

National  Gallery,  London 

Romney,  Portrait  of  Mrs.  Davies 80 

Collection  of  Edgar  Speyer,  Esq.,  London 

Romney,  Lady  Derby 83 

Collection  of  Sir  Charles  Tennant,  London 

Romney,  The  Parson's  Daughter 84 

National  Gallery,  London 

Hoppner,  The  Right  Honorable  William  Pitt 93 

Collection  of  Lord  Rosebery,  London 

Hoppner,  Princess  Sophia,  Daughter  of  George  III  ...    .      94 

Windsor  Castle 

Hoppner,  The  Countess  of  Oxford 98 

National  Gallery,  London 

Beechey,  Brother  and  Sister 104 

Louvre,  Paris 

Raeburn,  Mrs.  R.  Scott  Moncrieff     m 

National  Gallery  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh 

Raeburn,  Portrait  of  Lord  Newton 115 

National  Gallery  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh 

Raeburn,  Portrait  of  a  Lady 118 

National  Gallery,  London 

Opie,  Portrait  of  Mary  Wollstonecraft 126 

National  Gallery,  London 

Morland,  The  Halt 132 

Louvre,  Paris 

Morland,  Stable  Interior      136 

National  Gallery,  London 

Crome,  The  Windmill 141 

National  Gallery,  London 

Crome,  Mousehold  Heath 144 

National  Gallery,  London 


INDEX    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS  Xlll 

FACING   TAGS 

Cotman,  The  Breakdown 15 ' 

Collection  of  the  late  J.  J.  Colman,  Esq.,  Norwich 

Cotman,  Fishing- boats  off  Yarmouth 154 

Collection  of  the  late  J.  J.  Colman,  Esq.,  Norwich 

Lawrence,  Portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddons 1C1 

National  Gallery,  London 

Lawrence,  The  Duke  of  Wellington 162 

Collection  of  Lord  Rosebery,  London 

Lawrence,  The  Sisters 167 

Collection  cf  Charles  Crews,  Esq.,  London 

Lawrence,  Lady  Derby  (Miss  Farren) 170 

Collection  of  Lord  de  Grey  Wilton 

Turner,  Ulysses  Deriding  Polyphemus 175 

National  Gallery,  London 

Turner,  The  "Fighting  Temeraire" 178 

National  Gallery,  London 

Turner,  A  Frosty  Morning 183 

National  Gallery,  London 

Turner,  Dido  Building  Carthage 186 

National  Gallery,  London 

Constable,  The  Hay  Wain 191 

National  Gallery,  London 

Constable,  Waterloo  Bridge  (A  Sketch) 193 

Diploma  Gallery,  Royal  Academy,  London 

Constable,  Hampstead  Heath 196 

South  Kensington  Museum 

Constable,  The  Corn-field 198 

National  Gallery,  London 

Wilkie,  The  Refusal 205 

South  Kensington  Museum,  London 

Wilkie,  Digging  for  Rats 208 

Diploma  Gallery,  Royal  Academy,  London 


XIV  INDEX    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING   PAGE 


Leslie,  Catharine  of  Aragon  and  Maid 214 

Diploma  Gallery,  Royal  Academy,  London 

Landseer,  Portrait  of  Dr.  John  Allen 219 

National  Portrait  Gallery,  London 

Landseer,  The  Shepherd's  Chief  Mourner 222 

South  Kensington  Museum,  London 


OLD  ENGLISH   MASTERS 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


A    NOTE    ON    ENGLISH    ART 

I 

IN  one  of  the  hospital  buildings  at  Greenwich  there  is  a  large 
room  known  and  spoken  of,  even  at  the  present  time,  as  the 
"  Painted  Hall."  The  name  strikes  the  fancy  as  very  odd,  and 
excites  a  momentary  wonder  as  to  what  it  can  mean — what  a 
"painted  hall"  can  be.  It  seems  hardly  possible  that  the  name  is 
merely  a  provincial  way  of  describing  a  room  with  decorated  walls, 
and  yet  there  is  no  other  explanation.  That  is  the  meaning  in- 
tended to  be  conveyed.  Years  ago  Sir  James  Thornhill  painted 
here  a  central  oval  with  two  end  pieces  in  color  and  some  side 
decorations  in  black  and  white.  And  it  seems  that  this  painting  of 
pictures  for  walls  and  ceilings  was  such  an  extraordinary  per- 
formance in  Thornhill's  England  that  the  painter  was  knighted, 
and  the  room  itself  wonderingly  named  the  "Painted  Hall" — as 
one  should  say:  "There  are  plenty  of  halls  in  England,  but  only 
this  one  is  painted." 

Imagine  any  one  in  Rome  speaking  of  the  Sistine  as  the 
"Painted  Chapel"!  How  indefinite,  how  very  meaningless  it  would 
sound  !  For  all  chapels  in  Italy  are  more  or  less  painted.  In  fact, 
Italian  painting  was  born  in  a  chapel,  and  in  its  earlier  years  it  did 
little  more  than  cover  chapel  walls  with  Bible  story.  The  church 
had  use  for  it  as  a  teacher  of  the  faith  —  an  illustrator  of  the  Word. 
Old  and  New  Testament  were  spread  out  in  fresco,  that  all  might 
see  —  that  those  who  ran  might  read.  It  was  a  poor  church  in- 
deed that  had  not  some  of  its  chapels  painted ;  and  it  was  a  poorer 

3 


4  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

congregation  that  had  not  some  pictorial  cast  of  mind,  some 
appreciation  of  beauty  in  form  and  color.  For  these  church 
frescos,  while  primarily  for  instruction,  were  also  designed  to  dec- 
orate and  ornament  the  walls  upon  which  they  were  placed.  In 
those  days  architecture  was  the  mother  of  the  arts,  and  painting  was 
only  one  of  her  handmaidens.  Where  architecture  left  bare  walls, 
apses,  and  ceilings,  it  was  the  affair  of  painting  to  come  after  and 
fill  those  spaces  with  forms  and  colors.  At  first  the  painter  did  his 
work  awkwardly,  laboriously,  minutely.  He  came  not  at  once  full- 
fledged  to  maturity.  Many  years — yes,  whole  centuries — passed 
in  experiment,  in  abortive  trial,  before  he  was  able  to  work  easily 
and  gracefully.  But  finally,  in  Renaissance  times,  he  became  an 
expert  at  filling  given  spaces ;  he  became  commanding  in  his  com- 
position, and,  at  Venice,  supremely  masterful  in  his  grasp  of  color. 
The  great  artist,  the  creator  of  monumental  art,  had  at  last  arrived. 
Many  causes  had  combined  to  produce  him  —  the  church,  the 
gilds,  the  pictorial  mind  of  Italy,  the  Renaissance.  Many  things 
had  combined  to  make  his  art  excellent  —  sound  teaching,  perfect 
craftsmanship,  breadth  of  view,  sincerity  of  purpose.  And  not  the 
least  of  advantages  for  both  art  and  artist,  this  painting  was  pro- 
duced in  the  full  glare  of  publicity,  spread  in  public  places,  and 
subject  to  public  criticism. 

How  very  different  the  art  history  of  England !  The  church 
was  not  all-powerful  there,  and  did  not  use  painting  as  a  means  of 
instruction  in  the  Word.  When  Catholicism  was  upon  the  throne 
there  were  few  English  painters ;  when  Protestantism  came  to 
power  there  were  painters  enough,  but  the  reformed  faith  did  not 
care  for  their  services.  There  were  no  gilds  to  regulate  the 
painter's  art,  no  public  paintings  to  be  done  upon  church  walls,  no 
filling  of  architectural  spaces  with  form  and  color.  Consequently 
there  was  no  church  art,  no  monumental  painting.  The  English 
painters  never  understood  the  large  composition,  and  never  became 
proficient  in  handling  it.  It  is  true  the  eighteenth-century  painters 
aspired  to  it  in  the  so-called  "  historical  canvas " ;  but  again  and 
again,  in  the  hands  of  men  like  Reynolds  and  Lawrence,  the  aspi- 
ration proved  to  be  the  unsubstantial  fabric  of  a  dream.  It  had  no 
foundation  —  no  elementary  construction.  The  English  were  no 
more  fitted  to  paint  in  what  they  called  "  the  grand  style  "  than 
the  Dutch  across  the  water.  Neither  of  them  had  sufficient 
training  for  the  task.     This  in  itself  was  sufficient  to  place  a  limi- 


A    NOTE    ON    ENGLISH    ART  5 

tation  upon  English  painting.  And  yet  the  limitation  was  not 
perhaps  to  the  ultimate  disadvantage  of  English  art.  For  it 
threw  the  painters  back  upon  their  native  resources,  and  resulted 
in  the  production  of  a  different  kind  of  painting — a  kind  in  keep- 
ing with  the  age  and  people,  and  certainly  more  spontaneous  than 
any  labored  imitation  of  Italy. 

II 

The  absence  of  the  large  wall-painting  in  England,  as  in  the 
Netherlands,  has  been  charged  up  to  climate,  to  the  unsuitableness 
of  the  fresco  to  damp  countries,  to  the  absence  of  the  religious  mo- 
tive, to  insularity,  to  provincialism ;  but  it  may  as  well  be  said  at 
once  that  in  these  countries  there  were  no  pictures  in  public  places 
because  painting  was  not  a  public  affair.  To  this  day  the  English 
picture  is  the  easel  picture,  the  auction-room  commodity  in  a  gold 
frame  that  passes  from  one  owner  to  another,  and  the  public  little 
the  wiser  or  the  better  for  the  transfer.  It  is  an  article  of  barter,  a 
bauble  for  the  collector's  drawing-room,  or  at  best  an  unrelated 
square  of  form  and  color  holding  place  on  the  line  at  some  loan 
exhibition  in  which  only  the  restricted  few  take  any  interest.  It 
was  just  so  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Pictures  were  a  luxury  en- 
joyed by  the  king,  the  nobles,  and  the  well-to-do.  The  artist  and 
his  art  journeyed  to  the  court  and  had  little  to  say  to  the  masses. 
That  engravings  of  celebrated  pictures  were  made  and  given  out 
to  the  public  at  so  many  guineas  apiece,  that  there  was  a  Royal 
Academy  with  doors  that  opened  in  season,  and  that  there  were 
exhibitions  of  pictures  from  year  to  year,  speaks  little  for  the  pub- 
licity of  art.  It  would  require  a  great  many  exhibitions  of  the 
Royal  Academy  to  bring  art  home  to  London  as  the  church  of 
Santa  Maria  Novella  once  brought  it  home  to  Florence. 

Not  that  the  English  people  were  indifferent  to  art,  but  that  in 
matters  artistic  they  were  little  consulted  or  considered.  The  pri- 
vate citizen — the  collector — paid  for  the  picture,  not  the  public, 
and  it  was  his  taste  that  predominated  from  the  start.  In  a  way, 
true  enough,  his  taste  was  English  taste,  and  the  artists  who  pro- 
duced were  English  artists,  so  that,  after  all,  the  English  view  is  rep- 
resented ;  but  all  that  suggests  nationality  in  art  rather  than  the 
publicity  of  art  in  the  nation.  For  art,  to  be  of  a  public  character, 
must  have  something  of  general  interest  for  subject,  and  something 
of  conspicuous  exposure  for  appreciation  ;  whereas  this  English  art 


6  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

had  little  of  either.      It  was  private  furniture,  admired  chiefly  by  a 
select  circle  of  the  initiated. 

Naturally,  with  the  individual  as  purchaser,  the  portrait  became 
the  demand  of  the  age.  People  in  the  world  of  fashion  were  loath 
to  suffer  a  change  and  leave  no  likeness  of  themselves  to  future 
times.  King  and  courtier,  men  of  rank  and  women  of  beauty,  and 
children  with  splendid  promise  in  their  eyes,  all  were  put  upon 
canvas.  And  this,  too,  with  nobility  of  pose  and  some  loftiness  of 
mood  which,  even  though  slightly  strained,  was  not  at  all  bad  in 
taste  nor  inacceptable  as  formula.  The  portraits  that  Van  Dyck 
had  left  scattered  through  the  houses  of  England  made  up  the  tra- 
dition from  which  this  English  portraiture  derived.  Gainsborough, 
Romney,  Hoppner,  all  harked  back  to  the  noble  painter  of  nobil- 
ity. They  accepted  his  princely  pose  of  the  sitter,  his  selection 
of  only  the  best  qualities,  his  enhancement  of  effect  by  baronial 
column  and  curtain,  his  richness  of  robe  and  glamour  of  color. 
Foreign  travel  frequently  modified  this  influence.  Reynolds  in 
Holland  had  his  day  of  worshiping  Rembrandt,  and  Wilkie  fell 
under  the  spell  of  Velasquez  at  Madrid.  Every  painter  who  goes 
traveling  is  liable  to  have  moments  of  bowing  before  foreign  gods. 
And  yet,  with  all  the  Van  Dyck  tradition,  with  all  the  force  of  for- 
eign example,  there  is  not  one  of  the  famous  English  portraits  that 
looks  like  a  foreign  picture.  The  tang  of  the  English  soil  is  about 
them.     They  have  not  only  individuality,  but  nationality. 

The  landscape  was  evidently  something  the  painters  did  for 
their  own  pleasure.  It  was  not  in  demand,  and  no  one  cared  to 
buy  it  except  as  an  act  of  charity  to  the  painter.  Gainsborough 
left  a  studio  full  of  Suffolk  woodlands,  and  the  golden  skies  of 
Wilson  failed  to  keep  the  wolf  from  his  door.  It  was  unappreciated 
art  on  the  easels  of  Crome,  Cotman,  and  Constable ;  and  even 
Turner's  popular  success  may  be  traced,  not  to  his  English  skies 
and  waters,  but  to  his  grandiloquence  of  subject.  And  the  land- 
scape, too,  was  influenced  in  its  beginnings  by  foreign  example. 
The  tradition  of  Claude  and  the  historical  picture  held  with  one 
group  of  painters,  the  realism  of  Ruysdael  and  the  Dutchmen  with 
another  group  of  painters.  Yet  the  landscape  was,  taking  it  for 
all  in  all,  more  peculiarly  English  than  the  portrait.  It  spoke  the 
painter's  love  for  the  quiet  woodlands  and  meadows,  with  their  cattle; 
for  the  gently  flowing  rivers,  with  their  locks;  for  the  rounded  hills, 
with  their  windmills ;  for  the  harbors,  with  their  sails.     It  was  the 


A    NOTE    ON    ENGLISH    ART  7 

England  that  they  loved  best,  and  most  feelingly  did  men  like 
Crome  and  Constable  portray  it.  But  in  those  Georgian  days 
rural  subjects  were  voted  somewhat  vulgar,  and  cattle  and  horses 
were  not  supposed  to  hold  place  upon  canvas.  The  only  landscape 
the  "connoisseurs"  cared  much  for  was  the  Arcadia  of  Claude,  with 
its  Corinthian  temples,  and  peopled  harbors,  and  yellow  sun  sinking 
into  the  sea.  Beside  such  a  theatrical  concoction  the  woods  of 
Suffolk  and  the  waves  of  Yarmouth  were  too  provincial. 

The  languid  interest  taken  in  the  landscape  was  a  trifle  stimu- 
lated when  the  painters  added  to  their  pictures  figures  of  country 
children,  as  Gainsborough,  or  tavern  groups,  as  Morland.  This 
made  a  compromise  picture  usually  known  in  the  dealers'  catalogues 
as  "  Landscape  with  Figures."  Perhaps  the  English  painters  bor- 
rowed the  idea  from  the  Dutch,  and  perhaps  it  was  quite  original 
with  them ;  but  certainly  it  was  not  very  popular  with  picture  buy- 
ers. Again,  it  was  too  rural,  too  natural,  too  purely  pictorial. 
Humble  life  in  the  country  was  deadly  dull  to  the  Dr.  Johnsons  in 
the  city.  There  was  nothing  beautiful  about  cottage  doors  and 
ragged  children  and  post-horses.  Besides,  they  meant  nothing  in 
the  sense  of  telling  a  story  or  illustrating  poetry  or  fiction.  When 
Morland  told  the  sentimental  tale  of  some  unfortunate  heroine  of 
fiction,  the  canvas  was  bought  up  before  the  paint  upon  it  was  dry. 

The  picture  with  an  incident — the  small  canvas  with  its  interest 
hinging  upon  some  anecdote — was  perhaps  the  most  popular  pic- 
ture of  all.  It  has  usually  been  assumed  that  only  the  English  love 
the  episodic  panel,  but  the  truth  is,  the  masses  in  any  country  take 
kindly  to  it.  It  has  something  human  about  it — something  that 
all  can  understand.  The  fine  pictorial  qualities  of  Hogarth's 
"Marriage  a.  la  Mode,"  or  Wilkie's  "  Blind  Fiddler,"  or  Landseer's 
"  Shepherd's  Chief  Mourner"  are  likely  to  go  a-begging  for  a  word 
of  praise  from  the  average  person  ;  but  not  so  with  the  subjects  and 
the  stories  they  tell.  Those  who  are  not  interested  in  art  as  deco- 
ration are  quick  enough  in  comprehending  art  as  narration.  Of 
course  the  anecdotal  picture  was  plentiful  in  English  art  because 
popular.  All  the  artists  affected  it  somewhat,  and  even  when  the 
palette  and  canvas  were  set  for  the  "historical  painting,"  the  episode 
was  in  evidence,  as  witness  the  many  pictures  painted  from  scenes 
in  Shakspere  or  Plutarch.  It  was  the  only  original  figure-paint- 
ing known  to  English  art,  and  corresponded  after  its  kind  to  the 
genre  of  Steen  and  Ostade  over  in  Holland. 


8  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


III 

It  has  been  said — anent  the  incident  picture — that  the  cast  of 
the  English  mind  has  always  been  more  literary  than  pictorial ; 
that  it  conceives  art,  as  an  illustration  rather  than  a  creation — a 
something  that  helps  out  history  and  the  gospels  rather  than  a 
complete  entity  in  itself.  There  is  something  in  the  statement. 
Many  of  the  English  pictures  were  painted  almost  solely  for  the 
purpose  of  engraving  and  the  circulation  of  the  episode  in  black 
and  white ;  some  of  them  were  painted  from  the  stage  and  illus- 
trate the  acts  of  a  play ;  some  of  them  are  colored  scenes  from 
novels  and  border  ballads — things  designed  to  point  a  moral  or 
adorn  a  tale.  Beyond  doubt  England  shows  its  literary  bias  in  its 
art.  For  literature  was  as  native  to  the  kingdom  as  art  was  for- 
eign. The  poet  dates  from  the  earliest  reigns,  and  the  appeal  to 
the  ear  by  language  has  always  been  the  chief  avenue  of  approach 
to  the  English  understanding.  The  appeal  to  the  senses — the 
approach  to  the  eye  with  a  revelation  of  form  or  color — is  some- 
thing that  could  perhaps  be  more  successfully  undertaken  with  the 
Latin  races.  It  requires  a  more  susceptible,  more  impressionable, 
more  emotional  make-up  than  that  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  to  receive 
art  merely  for  its  decorative  value. 

Yet  the  generalization  should  not  be  pushed  too  far  or  too 
hard.  It  will  not  do  to  conclude  that  because  the  English  are 
thinkers,  liking  common  sense  and  good  literature,  that  therefore 
they  are  not  observers.  Indeed,  Sir  Joshua  and  his  contempora- 
ries were  very  shrewd  observers.  As  portrait-painters  there  was 
little  in  their  sitters  they  did  not  see  and  record.  How  much  they 
revealed  of  the  graceful,  the  charming,  the  lovely  in  women  and 
children  that  had  never  been  noticed  before !  How  much  of  char- 
acter they  portrayed  in  the  faces  of  the  Keppels,  the  Pitts,  and  the 
Goldsmiths !  The  landscape-painters  were  not  behind  them  in 
original  observation.  What  painter  of  landscape  can  match  Crome 
in  grasp  of  light,  sky,  and  aerial  space?  Claude  was  crude  and 
Corot  limited  compared  with  him.  And  who  so  penetrated  the 
mystery  of  driving  clouds  and  rain  and  sunbursts  as  Constable  ? 
Rousseau  and  Daubigny,  with  their  majestic  skies,  came  after  Con- 
stable, not  before  him.  No ;  the  pictorial  sense  is  large  enough 
with  these  eighteenth-century  painters  of  England.     They  see  truly 


A    NOTE    ON    ENGLISH    ART  9 

and  artistically,  and  because  they  see  differently  from  other  painters 
is  not  to  say  that  they  see  erroneously. 

And  again  a  generalization  from  the  English  inability  to  handle 
the  large  canvas  like  the  Renaissance  Italians  is  not  to  be  insisted 
upon  too  arbitrarily.  Certainly  the  lack  of  academic  training 
was  a  shortcoming  that  one  often  feels  disagreeably  prominent  in 
the  pictures.  That  Romney  never  learned  craftsmanship  in  the 
gilds,  that  he  never  served  time  on  wall  and  ceiling,  that  he  never 
was  a  pupil  to  a  capable  master,  is  apparent  enough  in  his  classical 
endeavors.  The  line  halts  and  stumbles ;  the  picture  does  not  hold 
together ;  the  brush-stroke  is  quick,  feverish,  but  uncertain.  His 
fellows  differed  from  him  only  in  degree.  They  have  not  the  facil- 
ity of  an  Andrea  del  Sarto.  They  are  not  craftsmen  in  the  Italian 
sense ;  and  when  they  try  to  work  in  the  Italian  manner  they  are 
out  of  their  element,  beyond  their  depth. 

But  eighteenth-century  England  never  asked  its  painters  to  do 
Andrea  del  Sarto's  frescos.  It  never  suggested  that  they  should 
paint  Crucifixions  and  Last  Suppers  and  Ariadnes.  The  painting 
of  such  things  in  England  was  mere  pictorial  pedantry  designed  to 
show  that  one  had  been  abroad  and  could  produce  great  art  if  he 
would.  Not  the  picture  of  the  Madonna,  but  the  portrait  of  the 
Duchess  of  Devonshire,  perhaps ;  not  an  allegory  of  Venice  en- 
throned in  splendor,  but  a  reality  of  English  life  —  these  were  the 
requirements  of  the  age.  And  so,  when  working  within  their 
proper  sphere  and  upon  the  materials  placed  before  them,  the 
English  painters  produced,  not  an  imitation  of  Continental  art,  but 
English  art.  And  it  must  be  conceded  that  they  produced  it  with 
much  insight  and  skill.  If  they  could  not  draw  with  the  classic 
line,  they  were  not  the  less  clever  with  the  naturalistic  line.  If 
they  were  unable  to  model  a  face  with  the  light  and  shade  of  a 
Leonardo,  they  could  paint  it  with  patches  of  color  in  a  very  con- 
vincing style.  With  a  technique  largely  of  their  own  invention, 
they  brought  the  Georgian  life  of  England  to  canvas  in  no  uncer- 
tain manner.  And  that  is  precisely  what  they  should  have  done. 
True  art  always  pictures  its  own  time  and  its  own  people  in  its 
own  way. 

IV 

Before   the   eighteenth   century  there   was   little   native    art    in 
England  worthy  of  the  name.      In  the  early  days  the  painter  was 


IO  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

only  a  clever  mechanic  in  the  service  of  the  king,  doing  gilding, 
ironwork,  carpentry,  tailoring — all  sorts  of  odd  jobs  requiring 
skill  of  hand.  When  the  Reformation  came  it  destroyed  what  art, 
foreign  and  otherwise,  had  been  accumulated  in  the  land.  Modern 
painting  was  born  in  Italy,  and  Protestantism  opposed  everything 
Italian  as  savoring  of  popery.  Portraiture  seems  to  have  survived 
the  general  wreck  through  human  vanity;  and  under  Henry  VIII 
it  was  carried  on  at  court  with  considerable  vigor.  Holbein,  the 
first  eminent  artist  in  English  court  annals,  came  over  with  the 
Duke  of  Arundel  in  1526,  and  painted  the  king  and  many  of 
the  nobility.  There  were  no  English  portrait-painters  of  note  at 
this  time,  and  each  sovereign  had  to  import  a  painter  from  the  Con- 
tinent. Under  Mary  came  Antony  Moro ;  and  under  Elizabeth, 
who,  it  is  said,  fancied  her  likeness  somewhat  idealized,  came  the 
fulsome  D'Heere.  But  toward  the  close  of  the  Elizabethan  reign 
there  appeared  two  English  miniature-painters  of  talent  —  Hilliard 
and  Oliver.  They  were  early  men,  —  the  primitives  of  English  art, 
—  but  not  without  considerable  skill.  After  them  the  line  of  Eng- 
glish  portraiture  was  carried,  by  men  like  Cooper,  Dobson,  Walker, 
and  others,  down  to  Hogarth  and  Reynolds,  with  few  breaks  in 
the  succession.  That  it  attracted  small  attention  until  the  time  of 
Reynolds  is  not  surprising.  It  was  not  mature  art,  and  compared 
with  the  work  of  the  foreigners  —  an  unavoidable  comparison  —  it 
was  insignificant. 

When  Charles  I  came  to  the  throne  he  had  Inigo  Jones  for 
architect  and  Van  Dyck  for  painter ;  and  art,  which  had  rather 
languished  under  James,  now  came  into  court  prominence  once 
more.  Charles  began  the  collecting  and  housing  of  pictures,  and 
had  in  this  the  assistance  of  Rubens  and  other  painters.  His  nobles 
followed  his  example  to  some  extent,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  for 
instance,  buying  the  whole  private  collection  of  Rubens  in  one  lot. 
There  was,  all  told,  much  activity  in  the  realm  of  art  just  at  this 
time.  For  Rubens  was  at  one  time  decorating  the  banqueting-room 
of  Whitehall,  and  later  Van  Dyck  was,  for  a  long  time,  throwing  off 
portraits  of  grand  people  from  his  easel  that  must  have  attracted 
no  little  attention  in  English  high  life.  But  when  Cromwell  and 
the  Puritans  came  they  changed  all  that.  The  reign  of  the  king 
ended  abruptly,  and  after  his  death  the  twelve  hundred  pictures 
he  had  collected  were  dispersed.  Art  was  forced  down  and  out. 
As  Walpole  tersely  remarks,  it  was  "  expelled  with  the  royal  family." 


A    NOTE    ON    ENGLISH    ART  I  I 

The  Restoration  brought  back  a  regal  viciousness  and  ostenta- 
tion which  were  strikingly  reflected  in  the  portraits  of  the  new  court 
painter,  Sir  Peter  Lely.  He  was  a  very  good  painter  —  a  man  of 
accomplishments;  but,  like  a  seventeenth-century  Italian,  he  was 
lacking  in  originality,  and  was  overcrowded  with  mannerisms  and 
affectations.  The  example  he  set  was  pernicious ;  and  the  vain 
Sir  Godfrey  Kneller,  who  came  after  him,  did  not  mend  matters. 
His  art  was  just  a  little  worse  than  Lely's,  being,  if  anything,  a 
trifle  more  mannered.  So  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century 
found  painting  in  England  at  a  low  ebb.  The  great  foreigners 
had  passed  on  ;  the  great  English  painters  had  not  yet  arrived. 
There  was  a  gap  in  art  history,  with  only  Thornhill  and  his  pseudo- 
Italian  decorations  to  fill  it.  Yet  just  at  this  time,  almost  as  the 
dawn  following  the  darkness,  came  William  Hogarth,  who  at  once 
gave  importance  to  native  painting,  and  definitely  placed  it  upon 
its  feet.  He  has  been  called  the  founder  of  the  school.  It  might 
be  more  exact  if  he  were  called  the  first  man  of  genius  to  appear 
in  English  art. 


WILLIAM   HOGARTH 


CHAPTER   I 

WILLIAM    HOGARTH 
(1697-1764) 

GEORGE  I  had  gone  to  the  shades  and  George  II  was  on 
.  the  throne  when  the  art  of  Hogarth  first  began  to  be 
talked  about  in  London  town.  It  was  something  out  of 
the  ordinary  that  an  English  painter  should  make  a  stir  in  art 
circles.  For  time  out  of  mind  it  had  been  thought  that  the  damp- 
ness of  the  climate  or  natural  incapacity  prevented  the  native  from 
doing  good  work,  and  that  none  but  a  Continental  could  be  an 
artist  in  the  grand  style.  So  long  had  the  outre  mer  contingent 
been  at  court,  so  long  had  the  foreign  cult  been  established,  that 
no  one  thought  of  taking  the  home  product  seriously.  Even 
when  Hogarth  made  his  appearance  he  was  not  considered  a 
rival  of  the  foreigners  by  any  one  but  himself.  He  did  not  win 
public  attention  by  painting  the  historical  picture  better  than 
Rubens.  Such  large  pictures  as  he  painted  were  coldly  received; 
and  Sir  Joshua,  who  voiced  British  taste  in  his  day,  did  not  regard 
Hogarth  as  an  artist  of  the  higher  sort.  Neither  did  he  draw 
notice  to  himself  by  painting  nobility  nobler  than  Van  Dyck.  His 
portraits  were  excellent,  but  the  people  of  his  time  did  not  think 
so.  He  attracted  attention  by  a  new  kind  of  painting — a  some- 
thing like  personal  journalism  with  the  paint-brush  —  that  hit  and 
interested  all  classes.  He  created  a  pictorial  "  Dunciad,"  and  set  the 
people  of  the  town  by  the  ears  with  his  lampoons  on  the  follies  of 
the  times.  This  made  a  talk,  and  London  awoke  to  the  fact  that 
there  was  one  English  painter  who  at  least  had  something  to  say. 
There  was  much  attention  given  to  what  he  said,  for  his  truths 
struck  near  home ;  but  one  fails  to  find  in  his  own  time,  or  even  in 
the  present  time,  any  wide-spread  appreciation  of  how  he  said  it. 

■5 


l6  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

The  artistic  quality  of  his  work  was  little  considered.  It  was 
William  Hogarth,  satirist ;  no  one  thought  or  cared  much  about 
William  Hogarth,  painter.  His  engravings  and  pictures  were  ac- 
cepted for  their  matter  rather  than  for  their  manner ;  and,  with  the 
exception  of  people  directly  interested  in  art  as  art,  they  are  so 
accepted  to  this  day. 

It  cut  Hogarth  to  the  quick  that  he  was  not  considered  a  great 
artist,  and  that  people  looked  only  at  his  subjects.  He  was  aware 
of  possessing  fine  pictorial  qualities,  and  wondered  that  people  did 
not  recognize  them;  yet  he  knowingly  rendered  them  subordinate 
by  the  great  prominence  he  gave  to  his  subject.  In  his  day  and 
country  the  story-telling  theme,  the  dramatic  climax,  the  moral 
teaching,  were  considered  an  end  and  an  aim  of  painting.  He 
himself  said  as  much,  and  so  designed  his  work.  There  is  some- 
thing peculiarly  English,  perhaps,  in  this  point  of  view,  as  has  been 
already  suggested.  English  painting  did  not  concern  itself  with 
architectural  decoration,  but,  under  Hogarth  at  least,  it  seems  to 
have  derived  from  the  stage.  He  was  probably  the  first  one  to 
make  it  a  vehicle  for  illustrating  themes  pertinent  to  literature. 
His  serial  pictures  were  the  painted  acts  of  a  drama — acts  written 
with  a  paint-brush  instead  of  with  a  pen.  They  were  read  scene 
by  scene,  like  a  book,  each  picture  being  a  chapter,  and  each  chap- 
ter having  time-movement.  To  comprehend  them  his  audience 
required  literary  intelligence  rather  than  pictorial  imagination. 
The  idea  that  his  pictures  were  decorative  panels,  and  had  artistic 
qualities  pleasing  to  the  eye  regardless  of  their  subjects,  could  have 
occurred  to  but  few ;  and  yet  they  were  decorative  in  a  very  high 
degree.  The  story-teller  was  clever  indeed,  but  the  painter  was 
infinitely  more  clever — in  fact,  little  short  of  a  marvel,  considering 
his  period  and  that  he  was  the  first  of  the  school.  He  quarreled 
with  the  "connoisseurs"  all  his  life  because  they  would  not  recog- 
nize him  as  the  equal  of  Correggio  and  Van  Dyck ;  but  reckoning 
with  the  fate  that  usually  befalls  the  innovator,  he  seems  to  have 
fared  not  badly.  His  own  generation  recognized  him  as  a  great 
satirist  and  moralist,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that  future  generations 
will  recognize  him  as  a  great  painter. 

Hogarth  was  born  in  London,  November  10,  1697.  His  father 
was  an  unsuccessful  schoolmaster,  and  at  the  time  of  the  son's  birth 
an  equally  unsuccessful  literary  hack  in  London.  His  uncle,  too, 
had  literary  aspirations,  and  wrote  satirical  poetry  that  was  char- 


MARRIAGE   A   LA    MODE    (DETAIL),    BY    WILLIAM    HOGARTH. 


NATIONAL   GALLERY,    LONDON. 


WILLIAM    HOGARTH  1 7 

acterized  as  wanting  in  "grammar,  metre,  sense,  and  decency." 
The  painter's  school  education  was  probably  slight,  for  he  was 
early  apprenticed  to  Ellis  Gamble,  a  silversmith,  at  the  sign  of  the 
Golden  Angel;  and  under  him  Hogarth  learned  to  engrave  and 
decorate  silver  plate  with  scrolls,  devices,  and  coats  of  arms.  He 
was  not  satisfied  with  such  work,  and  had  hopes  of  another  sort  in 
his  youthful  mind.  "  Engraving  on  copper  was  at  twenty  years  of 
age  my  utmost  ambition,"  he  says;  and  he  soon  began  engraving 
business  cards,  tickets,  and  booksellers'  plates.  He  also  designed 
and  engraved  the  plates  of  the  "South  Sea"  and  the  "Lottery," 
and  illustrated  Aubry  de  la  Mottraye's  "Travels";  but  none  of 
these  works  showed  great  talent.  The  illustrations  were  graceful 
but  not  noteworthy,  except  for  what  they  tell  us  of  Hogarth's  early 
taste,  which  seems  to  have  had  some  French  bias.  The  illustra- 
tions to  Butler's  "Hudibras,"  which  followed,  were  more  of  kin  to 
Dutch  art,  and  had  a  coarse,  harsh  fiber  running  through  them 
indicative  of  what  was  to  come. 

His  ambition  soon  extended  itself  to  the  painting  of  pictures, 
and  here  he  began  battling  against  odds.  For  he  had  little  sys- 
tematic education  as  a  painter.  He  was  no  passed  master  in  draw- 
ing, but  he  had  habituated  himself  to  mental  impressions  of  form, 
and  probably  "  drew  out  of  his  head,"  as  the  saying  is,  until  the 
form  looked  right,  resorting  at  times  perhaps  to  a  model  with  a 
difficult  piece  of  work.  He  attended  Sir  James  Thornhill's  art 
school  in  Covent  Garden,  and  he  must  have  learned  considerable 
there ;  for  Sir  James,  though  not  a  great  popular  success,  was  far 
from  being  the  incompetent  bungler  with  the  brush  that  people 
have  chosen  to  consider  him.  He  had  not  mental  strength,  and 
was  French- Italian  in  taste;  but  he  knew  how  to  draw  tolerably 
well,  and  his  line,  types,  and  composition  are  apparent  in  Hogarth's 
large  religious  pictures.  But  making  due  allowance  for  this  teach- 
ing and  for  the  occasional  traces  of  foreign  influence,  like  that 
of  Watteau,  Teniers,  Callot,  Chardin,  and  still  Hogarth's  educa- 
tion as  a  painter  remains  something  of  a  mystery.  However  it 
was  accomplished,  the  transition  from  an  indifferent  engraver  to 
a  master  of  the  brush  was  quickly  made,  and  was  little  short  of 
astonishing. 

In  1729  Hogarth  ran  away  with  and  married  his  master's  only 
daughter,  Jane  Thornhill,  and  set  up  in  life  as  engraver  and  painter 
in  South  Lambeth.     The  match  was  not  relished  by  Sir  James, 


1 8  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

but  after  Hogarth  came  to  popularity  (and  an  income)  he  was  duly 
forgiven.  He  began  to  engrave  and  publish  his  own  plates,  and 
to  paint  some  small  conversation  pictures,  in  measure,  like  the 
work  of  Lancret.  Before  1732  he  had  painted  the  "Wanstead 
Assembly,"  the  "Meeting  of  a  Committee  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons at  the  Fleet  Prison,  1729"  (one  of  his  most  charming  pieces 
of  tone  and  color),  scenes  from  the  "  Beggar's  Opera,"  the  "  Indian 
Emperor,"  and  some  small  portrait  groups. 

Between  1730  and  1733  he  painted  his  first  notable  success,  the 
"Harlot's  Progress."  There  were  six  pictures  in  the  series,  and 
they  were  afterward  engraved.  Hogarth  explained  the  series  by 
saying:  "I  have  endeavored  to  treat  my  subject  as  a  dramatic 
writer.  My  picture  is  my  stage ;  my  men  and  women  my  play- 
ers, who,  by  means  of  certain  actions  and  gestures,  are  to  ex- 
hibit a  dumb-show."  He  could  not  have  made  a  more  exact 
explanation  of  the  subject ;  and  the  subject  was  the  only  thing  in 
which  his  audience  was  interested.  The  "  Harlot's  Progress"  was 
a  moral  tale  in  paint,  carrying  over  six  acts.  The  play — the 
story — was  the  thing.  Had  the  series  not  been  destroyed  by  fire, 
we  might  to-day  find  that  there  was  something  else  to  it  than  the 
"dumb-show" — something  of  decorative  beauty  in  form  and  color. 
But  the  subject  of  it  rather  than  the  art  of  it  caught  the  fancy  of 
the  town,  and  Hogarth  immediately  followed  up  its  success  by  the 
"  Rake's  Progress,"  in  eight  pictures,  now  in  the  Soane  Museum. 
This  was  not  so  successful  with  the  populace,  though  it  made  a 
savage  lunge  at  high  life.  The  two  series  had  made  him  famous, 
and  his  satires  were  in  demand  ;  yet  at  this  very  time  the  painter  in 
him  seemed  to  revolt  at  mere  popular  success,  and  he  turned  back 
sharply  to  an  early  ambition  of  excelling  in  the  "great  style  of 
history-painting." 

In  1736  he  produced  two  enormous  pictures  for  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's Hospital,  with  figures  over  life-size,  representing  the  "  Pool 
of  Bethesda"  and  the  "Good  Samaritan."  They  were  a  first  at- 
tempt at  large  pictures,  and  though  not  exceptionally  good,  they 
were  not  exceptionally  bad,  as  we  have  been  told.  They  displayed 
ability,  but  there  was  no  applause  for  them  at  the  time ;  and 
Hogarth,  not  wishing  to  sink  into  a  "portrait  manufacturer,"  as  he 
put  it,  returned  to  his  small  pictures,  his  plates,  and  his  public. 
The  "  Distressed  Poet,"  the  "  Strolling  Actresses  Dressing  in  a 
Barn,"  the  "Enraged  Musician,"  came  next;  and  then,  after  a 
unique  auction   of  his   pictures,  at  which   the   two   "Progresses" 


WILLIAM    HOGARTH  19 

fetched  only  two  hundred  and  seventy-three  pounds,  he  produced 
his  "  Marriage  a.  la  Mode,"  six  pictures  in  a  series,  now  in  the 
National  Gallery.  After  this  he  did  some  portraits  of  Lord  Lovat, 
Mr.  Garrick,  and  others;  got  up  "Industry  and  Idleness,"  twelve 
plates  illustrating  apprentice  life ;  painted  the  effective  "  March  to 
Finchley";  engraved  "Beer  Street,"  "Gin  Lane,"  and  the  "Four 
Stages  of  Cruelty,"  three  uninteresting  and  coarse  studies  in  crimi- 
nology ;  and  painted  an  insular,  ill-natured  fling  at  the  French, 
called  the  "Roast  Beef  of  Old  England"  or  "Calais  Gate."  In 
1752  he  produced  two  more  large  historical  pictures — one  of 
"  Moses  Brought  to  Pharaoh's  Daughter,"  now  in  the  Foundling 
Asylum,  and  one  of  "  Paul  Before  Felix,"  belonging  to  the  Society 
of  Lincoln's  Inn. 

Hogarth  was  now  fifty-four,  and  had  perhaps  done  his  best 
work,  but  his  fighting  spirit  was  by  no  means  stilled.  He  wrote 
a  book  called  the  "Analysis  of  Beauty,"  to  "fix  the  fluctuating  of 
taste,"  in  which  he  went  out  of  his  way  to  attack  the  "  black  mas- 
ters" of  Italy,  and  incidentally  to  assert  his  own  superiority.  In 
reality  his  quarrel  was  more  with  the  picture-dealers  who  brought 
over  the  "  ship-loads  of  manufactured  Dead  Christs,  Holy  Fam- 
ilies, and  Madonnas,"  than  with  the  old  masters.  "  The  con- 
noisseurs and  I  are  at  war,  you  know,  and  because  I  hate  them 
they  think  I  hate  Titian  —  and  let  them."  But  the  "Analysis  of 
Beauty "  was  not  a  very  lucid  performance  (Walpole  called  it 
"  silly "),  and  it  brought  Hogarth  many  hard  knocks  from  his 
enemies.  He  who  had  been  such  a  biter  soon  felt  himself  bit,  and 
"  Painter  Pugg,"  as  they  called  him,  afforded  considerable  amuse- 
ment to  the  satirists  of  the  day. 

He  went  on,  however,  but  with  slackened  vigor,  to  paint  the 
"  Election,"  four  satirical  canvases  now  in  the  Soane  Museum,  and 
to  get  out  some  prints  of  minor  importance.  The  fancy  for  histori- 
cal painting  came  to  him  once  more,  and  he  painted  three  pictures 
as  an  altarpiece  for  St.  Mary  Redcliffe,  Bristol,  now  in  the  Academy 
of  Clifton.  For  these  he  got  five  hundred  pounds,  and  was  vastly 
proud  of  getting  such  a  sum  for  his  work.  In  1757  he  was 
appointed  sergeant-painter  to  the  king,  and  thought  to  confine 
himself  thereafter  to  portraiture ;  but  two  years  after  his  appoint- 
ment he  announced  that  he  would  finally  abandon  the  brush  for  the 
graver.  Before  doing  so  he  painted  the  "Lady's  Last  Stake" 
and  the  "Sigismunda"  in  the  National  Gallery,  for  which  Mrs. 
Hogarth  is  said  to  have  acted  as  the  model.     He  did  take  up  the 


20  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

graver  again,  but  with  weakened  wit,  producing  the  plates  of  the 
"Times,"  which  got  him  into  a  quarrel  with  his  whilom  friends 
Churchill  and  the  "heaven-born"  Wilkes.  The  quarrel  resulted 
in  Hogarth's  pride  getting  badly  battered,  and  Wilkes  having  his 
cock-eyes  perpetuated  in  caricature.  After  that  there  is  little  to 
record.  The  artist's  work  ended  with  the  plate  of  the  "  Bathos," 
and  the  man  died  on  October  26,  1764,  at  his  house  in  Leicester 
Fields,  where  he  had  lived  most  of  his  life. 

Such,  in  brief,  was  the  life  of  William  Hogarth  —  a  life  that  is 
both  illustrated  and  contradicted  by  his  pictures.  To  the  public  he 
was  a  pugnacious  little  man,  one  who  believed  in  justice  and  up- 
rightness, and  never  minced  words  in  denouncing  social  immoral- 
ity. His  subjects  would  indicate  the  coarse-grained  satirist,  the 
man  who  meant  to  shake  the  sides  and  at  the  same  time  preach  a 
sermon.  He  was  regarded  as  something  of  a  Wilkes  in  paint  —  a 
slasher  and  a  bruiser  of  reputations  for  righteousness'  sake,  a 
denouncer  of  evil,  an  opponent  of  the  old  masters,  and  one  knows 
not  what  else  besides.  Undoubtedly  he  was  in  measure  the  prod- 
uct of  a  degraded  time,  and  had  some  degraded  instincts  that 
cropped  out  in  his  works ;  but  these  were  only  a  part  of  the  man, 
and  the  poorer,  more  ignoble  part  at  that.  There  was  another 
side,  about  which  he  said  little,  because  his  public  was  not  inter- 
ested, but  it  is  fully  revealed  in  his  pictures.  The  pictures  show 
that  under  the  coarse  mask  of  the  satirist  was  a  feeling  as  refined 
as  any  known  to  English  painting.  Hogarth  the  satirist  and  Ho- 
garth the  painter  were  like  two  different  natures.  One  was  sav- 
age, brutish,  almost  hyena-like  in  the  laugh  over  the  unwholesome  ; 
the  other  was  the  embodiment  of  tenderness,  delicacy,  and  charm. 

The  brutish  nature  is  apparent  in  many  plates  and  paintings : 
the  "Modern  Midnight  Conversation,"  the  "Election,"  the  "Prog- 
resses," the  "  Marriage  a.  la  Mode."  Take  the  "  Rake's  Progress," 
for  instance,  and  study  the  tragic  horror  of  the  gambling-scene  — 
the  cold-bloodedness  of  the  hands  grasping  the  money,  the  frenzy 
of  the  young  man  kneeling  upon  the  floor,  his  hands  clenched  in 
agony,  the  utter  indifference  of  those  about  him.  Consider  the 
picture  called  the  "Orgies" — the  uproar  of  the  drunken  women, 
the  bestiality  of  the  faces,  the  coarseness  of  the  actions,  the  gutter 
quality  of  the  whole  scene.  Pass  on  to  the  last  picture,  the  "Mad- 
house," where  the  rake  lies  on  the  floor  in  the  foreground,  with- 
out mind,  feeling,  or  even  clothing ;  around  him  hideous  types  of 


PORTRAIT   OF    HOGARTH,    BY    HIMSELF, 

NATIONAL   PORTRAIT   GALLERY,  LONDON. 


WILLIAM    HOGARTH  21 

the  maniac,  and  back  of  him  gloom,  chains,  grated  windows,  and 
the  grave.     It  is  not  possible  to  sup  more  full  of  horrors. 

But  dismiss  the  subjects  from  mind,  study  the  pictures  for  what 
they  look  rather  than  for  what  they  mean,  and  see  with  what  won- 
derful taste  and  refinement  the  man  has  painted  them.  Notice  the 
gamblers  at  the  table  for  their  grouping  and  action  ;  see  with  what 
skill  the  painter  has  drawn  the  room  and  filled  it  with  atmosphere, 
and  with  what  charm  he  has  woven  through  that  atmosphere  his 
subtile  and  beautiful  scheme  of  color.  In  the  "Orgies"  picture 
notice  the  woman  in  the  foreground  pulling  off  her  shoes  and 
stockings  for  the  dance ;  and,  as  art,  could  anything  be  more  beau- 
tiful than  the  abandon  and  grace  of  the  action,  the  beauty  of  the 
color,  the  setting  and  relief  of  the  figure  ?  See  again  the  circle  of 
women  around  the  table  ;  how  delicately  the  reds,  blues,  yellows, 
and  grays  of  the  dresses  harmonize  and  run  together !  Notice 
the  angle  of  the  room ;  the  Roman  emperors  on  the  wall ;  the 
little  girl  standing  at  the  door,  so  beautiful  in  color  and  painting. 
Could  anything  be  more  exquisite  than  this  treatment?  And 
there,  in  that  charnel-house  of  the  mind,  the  mad-house,  are  two 
women  standing  in  the  background,  one  dressed  in  pink  silk,  the 
other  in  silver-gray,  than  which  Watteau  never  painted  anything 
more  graceful  or  more  delicate.  In  the  painter's  mind,  what  mis- 
sion had  these  beings  of  another  sphere  in  such  a  place  ?  Were 
they  not  put  there  as  atoning  loveliness  ?  It  must  have  been  a 
strange  imagination  that  could  entertain  such  visions  of  beauty  and 
deformity  at  one  and  the  same  time  —  a  strange  nature  that  could 
be  so  coarse  in  thought,  so  refined  in  feeling  and  execution.  Jan 
Steen  occasionally  reeked  of  the  bagnio  without  knowing  it,  and 
Goya  was  sometimes  hideous  through  mental  infirmity  ;  but  Ho- 
garth knowingly  compounded  viciousness  with  purity,  and  married 
Beauty  to  the  Beast ;  he  consciously  gilded  the  gutter  with  the 
rainbow  hues  of  heaven. 

There  is  no  mistaking  the  moralist  in  Hogarth.  He  depicted 
vice  with  a  purpose.  Yet  one  may  doubt  if,  as  a  painter,  he  liked 
this  moralizing  with  the  paint-brush  any  too  well.  From  his  vari- 
ous attempts  at  historical  painting,  one  might  conclude  that  he 
wished  to  paint  other  things,  but  the  public  would  not  allow  him 
to  do  so.  His  historical  canvases  attracted  little  notice,  but  his 
satires  were  applauded.  He  was  a  man  who  reckoned  with  suc- 
cess, and  perhaps  thought  it  better  to  be  first  as  a  satirist  than  last 


22  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

as  a  painter  in  the  grand  style.  In  other  words,  he  supplied  a  de- 
mand, and  possibly  contented  his  own  soul  by  putting  forth  his 
work  in  a  refined,  painter-like  manner. 

In  his  story-telling  subjects  his  strong  feature  was  his  mimic 
sense  and  his  power  of  characterization.  The  influence  of  the 
theater  appears  here  again.  Shows  of  all  sorts  interested  him  as  a 
child,  he  tells  us ;  the  dramatic  was  his  natural  gift,  the  stage  his 
study,  and  a  knowledge  of  physiognomy  one  of  his  earliest  acquire- 
ments. Characterization  came  to  him  as  it  might  to  a  trained 
actor.  He  knew  almost  infallibly  how  a  feeling  or  emotion  made 
itself  manifest  in  face  or  action.  Look,  for  instance,  at  Mr.  Cole's 
engraving  of  the  detail  from  the  "  Marriage  a.  la  Mode,"  where  the 
marriage' contract  is  being  drawn  up,  and  see  how  strongly  hit  off 
are  the  flippant  vanity  of  the  young  fop  admiring  himself  in  the 
mirror,  the  peevish  listlessness  of  the  prospective  bride  playing 
with  her  ring.  It  is  a  milder  piece  of  sarcasm  than  Hogarth  usually 
indulged  in,  but  how  absolute  it  is !  The  people  of  the  "  Prog- 
resses," the  "Election,"  and  the  "March  to  Finchley"  are  just  as 
decisively  epitomized. 

Characterization  shows  again  in  his  portraiture.  He  objected 
to  "manufacturing"  portraits,  and  yet  some  of  his  noblest  pieces 
are  in  this  field.  Individuality  of  form  and  feature  he  grasped 
unerringly,  even  when  he  had  himself  for  a  model,  as  in  the  small 
picture  engraved  by  Mr.  Cole.  The  "  Garrick  and  Wife"  at 
Windsor  Castle  is  a  little  more  precise  and  non-elastic,  but 
shrewdly  observed  and  full  of  force ;  and  the  half-length  of  his 
own  wife,  belonging  to  Lord  Rosebery,  is  one  of  the  most  refined 
pieces  of  vital  portraiture  in  the  whole  reach  of  the  English  school. 
The  color-scheme  alone  —  a  scheme  of  grays  touched  with  lilacs  — 
forestalls  the  color  delicacy  of  to-day,  and  the  face  shows  as  dis- 
tinguished drawing  as  Hogarth  ever  did.  The  "Mrs.  Dawson" 
at  Edinburgh,  and  the  "  Peg  Woffington  "  in  Sir  Charles  Tennent's 
collection,  have  much  of  the  same  quality.  The  portraits  of  "  Miss 
Fenton  as  Polly  Peacham,"  and  Hogarth  with  his  dog,  in  the 
National  Gallery,  are  of  a  much  poorer  quality  ;  and  even  the  panel 
showing  the  heads  of  Hogarth's  servants,  though  forceful,  is  lack- 
ing in  color  and  somewhat  hard  in  execution.  The  feeling  that 
they  once  actually  lived,  however,  is  as  strong  as  with  the  "  Cap- 
tain Coram"  or  the  sketchy  "  Lord  Lovat."  Character  marks  all 
his  heads. 


WILLIAM    HOGARTH  23 

His  large  religious  pictures  in  the  Foundling  Asylum  and  in  St. 
Bartholomew's  Hospital  were  experiments.  Hogarth  knew  little 
about  large-scaled  figure-painting,  and  when  he  designed  such 
work  he  did  little  more  than  enlarge  a  small  conception.  In  the 
"  Moses  Brought  to  Pharaoh's  Daughter,"  the  princess  is  a  pretty 
"  Marriage  a  la  Mode  "  type,  cleverly  handled,  as  is  the  girl  back 
of  her ;  and  Moses  is,  of  course,  a  Drury  Lane  urchin  in  green 
dress  and  flaxen  hair.  The  "Pool  of  Bethesda"has  an  amphi- 
theater of  ruins  in  the  background,  a  figure  of  Christ  lacking  in 
dignity,  a  typical  street  mob  about  him,  a  girl  with  a  white  cap  like 
a  Hals,  a  woman  in  white  like  a  Chardin,  a  nude  figure  like  a 
Boucher,  and  a  man  in  the  foreground  like  a  Titian.  The  "  Good 
Samaritan,"  on  the  side  wall  next  it,  is  no  improvement.  They 
are  all  well  enough  painted,  but  a  bit  disjointed  and  incongruous  in 
conception.  The  mind  of  Hogarth  did  not  readily  rise  to  nobility 
of  type  after  dealing  with  models  from  the  London  slums.  Occa- 
sionally we  see  in  his  pictures  a  figure  that  is  airy  and  graceful, 
but  these  appear  more  at  home  in  his  small  conversation  groups, 
and  in  his  single-figure  pieces,  like  the  "  Lady's  Last  Stake"  and 
the  "  Sigismunda."  The  figure  in  the  former  approaches  to  nobil- 
ity, and  so  far  as  the  type  is  concerned,  the  "  Sigismunda"  is  ele- 
vated enough ;  but  in  painting  it  Hogarth  was  trying  to  outdo  a 
supposed  Correggio,  and  overworked  the  canvas.  It  lacks  in  free- 
dom and  spontaneity. 

Hogarth  was  not  a  landscape-painter,  yet  he  knew  a  great  deal 
about  landscape,  as  the  first  picture  in  the  "Election"  series  dis- 
closes. The  "  Calais  Gate,"  too,  shows  knowledge  of  sky  and 
sunlight;  and  in  the  first  picture  of  the  "Marriage  a  la  Mode" 
series  there  is  a  street  or  square,  seen  through  a  window,  that  is 
astonishing  in  its  delicate  drawing,  its  value  in  light,  and  its  feel- 
ing of  air.  The  "Arrest"  in  the  "  Rake's  Progress"  shows  con- 
clusively that  he  knew  how  to  paint  a  street  with  air  in  it,  sky  over 
it,  and  buildings  placed  in  their  proper  planes.  In  fact,  Hogarth 
could  paint  almost  anything,  except  animals,  and  in  nothing  was 
he  stronger  than  in  still  life.  His  cups  and  saucers  and  table- 
cloths are  as  beautiful  as  Chardin's  ;  his  beef  in  the  "  Calais  Gate" 
is  worthy  of  any  Dutchman  ;  and  neither  Pater  nor  Watteau  was 
his  superior  in  painting  silks,  draperies,  and  furniture. 

Technically  he  was  uneven  in  drawing.  Sometimes  he  was 
harsh  and  lacking  in  freedom,  at  other  times  quite  rhythmical  and 


24  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

flowing.  He  seldom  drew  like  an  academician,  trained  to  ease  by 
knowledge,  and  giving  the  whole  truth  of  form.  On  the  contrary, 
he  frequently  cut  out  the  accidental  by  a  loose,  broken  line,  and 
summarized  an  object,  like  Ostade  or  Millet.  Knowledge  of  anat- 
omy he  showed  in  more  than  one  nude ;  and  motion,  life,  abandon, 
he  pictured  well  in  the  "  Orgies  "  picture  of  the  "  Rake's  Progress," 
in  the  "  Strolling  Actresses  Dressing  in  a  Barn,"  in  the  "  Marriage 
a  la  Mode."  All  his  people  have  weight  and  bulk,  and  they  all 
stand  or  sit  firmly.  This  is  noticeable  in  his  own  portrait,  in  the 
"  Lord  Lovat,"  in  the  fat  singing-master  of  the  fourth  "  Marriage 
a.  la  Mode  "  picture. 

Moreover,  all  Hogarth's  people  hold  their  places  by  virtue 
of  their  atmospheric  setting.  Each  one  is  given  a  proper  value. 
Not  one  of  the  old  English  masters  understood  the  problem  of 
enveloppe  —  the  placing  of  figures  in  atmosphere  —  so  thoroughly 
as  Hogarth.  I  have  only  to  refer  to  the  little  family  group  (No. 
1 153)  in  the  National  Gallery  for  confirmation  of  this.  The  figure 
of  the  man  standing  at  the  right,  the  group  about  the  table,  the 
table  itself,  are  absolute  in  their  truthful  relations  to  the  foreground, 
the  room,  and  the  wall  decorations.  The  setting  is  so  true  that 
the  air  of  the  room  can  be  almost  felt.  Look  again  at  the  "  Duel " 
scene  in  the  "  Marriage  a  la  Mode,"  and  a  similar  effect  is  appa- 
rent, thoueh  the  illumination  is  different.  It  is  one  of  the  first 
candle-  and  fire-light  pictures  painted  in  England,  and  it  is  a  little 
arbitrary  in  its  lighting;  but  the  relation  of  objects  is  not  dis- 
turbed. Everything  keeps  its  place,  and  the  picture  holds  together 
as  a  whole. 

Hogarth  was  not  less  skilful  in  the  handling  of  color.  There  is 
a  sharp  brick  quality  often  shown  in  his  flesh  that  is  peculiar  to 
English  painting,  but  in  other  respects  he  is  most  forceful  while 
being  most  subtile.  His  tones  are  usually  pure,  though  he  often 
used  broken  notes  to  attain  delicacy.  All  colors  —  reds,  blues, 
greens,  grays,  Jan  Steen's  yellows  —  are  seen  upon  his  canvases, 
and  they  seem  to  be  laid  on  easily,  without  kneading,  mixing,  or 
emendation.  Moreover,  they  are  to-day  in  an  excellent  state  of 
preservation  ;  for  Hogarth  used  no  bitumen,  like  those  who  came 
after  him,  and  tried  no  experiments  with  fugitive  colors.  Many 
faces  by  Reynolds  are  stricken  with  a  death  pallor;  Raeburn's 
shadows  are  pot-black  ;  and  Turner's  skies  have  turned  chalk-white 
or  lemon-yellow :    but    Hogarth's   colors  are    as    clear    and    pure 


GARRICK    AND    HIS    WIFE,    BY    WILLIAM    HOGARTH. 

WINDSOR    I    \  ■■  i  i  i 


WILLIAM    HOCxARTH  25 

as  when  first  painted.  He  knew  very  well  what  he  needed,  and 
resorted  to  no  studio  expedient  in  obtaining  it.  Frank,  honest 
man  that  he  was,  he  painted  in  a  frank,  honest  way.  His  han- 
dling is  not  remarkable,  but  it  is  effective.  The  sketch  of  the 
"  Shrimp  Girl"  shows  both  his  brush-work  and  his  color  to  advan- 
tage. It  is  a  scheme  in  reds,  browns,  and  grays,  done  swiftly,  but 
with  knowledge,  taste,  and  skill. 

His  composition  was  perhaps  his  weakest  feature.  It  is  the 
final  and  convincing  proof  of  the  influence  of  the  theater  upon  his 
art.  One  cannot  look  at  the  "  Progresses,"  the  "  Marriage  a  la 
Mode,"  the  "  Lady's  Last  Stake,"  without  realizing  that  they  are 
stage  tableaux,  the  painted  climaxes  of  a  play.  The  setting  of  the 
scenes,  the  grouping  of  figures,  the  disposition  of  properties,  the 
planes  in  which  the  figures  stand,  the  exits  and  the  entrances,  all 
point  to  the  theater.  He  probably  found  his  characters  in  real 
life,  but  he  arranged  them  on  the  boards  like  a  stage-manager. 
This  led  to  something  akin  to  the  artificial,  to  overmuch  detail,  and 
to  the  crowding  of  space.  The  object  of  many  accessories  was,  of 
course,  to  suggest  the  tale  that  could  not  be  spoken  ;  and  for  the 
story-telling  purpose  it  was  effective  enough,  but  as  pictorial  com- 
position it  was  sometimes  unfortunate.  Composition  never  was  a 
strong  feature  of  the  English  painters,  and  Hogarth,  the  beginner, 
was  not  always  successful  with  it.  As  with  many  another  painter, 
his  least  elaborate  compositions  were  his  best. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Hogarth's  instincts  were  those  of  a 
painter.  His  feeling  for  color  and  air,  his  handling  of  the  brush, 
his  sense  of  delicacy  and  refinement  in  the  placing  of  tones,  all 
mark  him  as  an  artist  whose  medium  of  expression  was  neces- 
sarily pigment.  His  trenching  upon  literature  in  his  subjects,  his 
constant  jumbling  of  pigment  with  figment,  were  requirements 
thrust  upon  him  by  his  age  and  audience ;  but  neither  that,  nor  the 
fact  that  his  audience  applauded  him  for  his  satires  rather  than  for 
his  painting,  invalidates  the  excellence  of  his  art.  The  raison 
d'etre  for  the  subjects  has  passed  away,  but  the  painting  still  lives 
to  give  its  author  high  rank.  It  is  worthy  of  more  study  than 
it  has  yet  received,  for  there  were  only  four  great  originals  in 
old  English  painting — Hogarth,  Gainsborough,  Constable,  and 
Turner.  Hogarth  was  the  first,  and  some  there  be  who  do  not 
hesitate  to  say  he  was  the  greatest  of  them  all. 


26 


OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 


THE  "  SHRIMP  GIRL  "  is  a  sketch, 
life-sized  upon  a  canvas  twenty  inches 
wide  by  twenty-six  high,  and  is  one  of 
the  best  and  most  popular  of  Hogarth's 
works.  It  is  brushed  in  with  thin  body 
color,  of  a  warm  gray  mixture,  the  face 
and  upper  portion  of  the  bust  being 
brightened  with  a  mellow  reddish  hue, 
reminding  one  of  the  color  of  a  boiled 
shrimp  in  its  modulations  from  more  vivid 
touches  of  red  into  golden  and  pearly 
and  brown  and  amber  tints, —  charming 
in  its  fusion  and  subtle  play  of  tones, — 
the  whole  enveloped  in  mist,  moving 
and  fluent,  and  lighted  by  the  morning 
sun,  which  permeates  with  its  warm  rays 
the  fogginess  of  the  background.  In 
short,  it  may  be  said  to  be  a  London  sun 
and  a  London  atmosphere  taken  at  a 
happy  moment. 

And  this  is  the  "Shrimp  Girl."  Look 
at  her !  Laughing  and  sprightly  and  in- 
nocent, a  mere  shrimp  herself,  tender  and 
sweet,  and  as  yet  uncontaminated  by  the 
grosser  fry  of  Billingsgate ;  cousin,  doubt- 
less, to  the  "  Rat-catcher's  Daughter," 
whom  she  is  very  likely  saluting  from 
across  the  road  — "  whose  father  caught 
rats  while  she  sold  sprats,  all  round  and 
about  that  quarter."  "  How  charming," 
one  is  apt  to  exclaim  while  contemplat- 
ing it, "  is  the  innocence  of  youth !  How 
lovely  its  face  always  is,  whether  seen  in 
the  guise  of  a  fishmonger's  or  a  king's 
child  !  "  And  no  doubt  Hogarth  thought 
this  way,  as  he  lingered  caressingly  about 
the  mouth  and  nose  of  his  subject,  and 
with  inimitable  strokes  touched  in  the 
eyes,  which  give  such  a  playful  and  be- 
witching twinkle  to  the  expression. 

Here  is  that  suggestion  of  life  and 
movement  which  a   great  master  often 


hits  in  a  sketch.  It  was  well  that  Ho- 
garth left  it  in  the  state  that  it  is,  and 
did  not  go  into  detail,  as  in  the  case  of 
his  more  ambitious  and  elaborate  com- 
position which  hangs  by  its  side  in 
the  National  Gallery,  the  "  Sigismunda 
Mourning  over  the  Heart  of  Guiscardo." 
This  work,  though  costing  the  artist  in- 
finitely more  thought  and  labor,  is  yet 
rigid,  lacking  that  loose  and  atmo- 
spheric quality  which  is  the  charm  of  the 
"Shrimp  Girl,"  because  too  painfully 
studied  in  its  parts,  as  any  one  may  see 
by  comparing  the  two. 

It  is  a  pity  that  the  compass  of  my 
block  did  not  admit  of  my  showing  the 
whole  of  the  "  Marriage  Contract,"  but 
the  detail  given  is  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful and  characteristic  bits  of  the  whole 
series,  which  consists  of  six  canvases, 
uniform  in  size,  and  measuring  each 
thirty-five  and  a  half  inches  long  by 
twenty-seven  and  a  half  inches  high. 
Hogarth  was  the  first  English  artist  who 
conceived  and  executed  the  idea  of  rep- 
resenting a  series  of  adventures  on  canvas 
in  which  the  career  of  one  character  was 
conducted  from  the  beginning  to  the  end ; 
so  that,  aside  from  their  artistic  charm, 
his  works,  from  their  unique  power  of 
story-telling,  possess  somewhat  the  inter- 
est of  a  novel.  His  extraordinary  genius 
in  this  respect  may  be  seen  even  in  the 
detail  which  I  have  chosen.  The  pair  — 
the  one  an  earl,  the  other  a  countess  — 
are  awaiting  the  drawing  up  of  the  mar- 
riage contract;  the  lawyers  busy  with 
this  matter  form  a  group  in  the  original 
to  the  right ;  and  it  is  clearly  to  be  seen 
that  it  is  an  affair  of  thrift,  but  none  of 
love,  for  the  earl  has  turned  his  back 
upon  his  betrothed,  and,  with  an  air  of 


WILLIAM    HOGARTH 


27 


self-complacence,  is  engaged  with  the  re- 
flection of  his  face,  plastered  with  beauty- 
spots,  in  the  mirror.  This  is  a  satirical 
touch  upon  the  custom  of  the  times  when 
beaus  as  well  as  belles  wore  beauty-spots. 
Observe  that  he  is  in  the  act  of  taking  a 
pinch  of  snuff,  by  which  is  conveyed  the 
suggestion  that  he  does  n't  care  that 
much  for  the  creature  to  whom  he  is 
being  linked.  The  two  dogs  in  the  cor- 
ner which  are  chained  together  have  also 
some  bearing  upon  the  theme,  from  their 
being  thus  forcibly  united.  The  countess, 
too,  toys  aimlessly  with  the  marriage  ring, 
which  she  has  strung  upon  her  silk  hand- 
kerchief, while  she  listens  (oh,  the  shame 
of  it!)  to  the  oily  flattery,  the  whisperings 
of  love,  from  the  affable  young  clerk  by 
her  side.  It  is  this  young  fellow  who,  in 
the  sequel,  becomes  the  paramour  of  the 
countess  and  kills  the  earl  in  a  duel.  But 
note  the  face  of  horror  —  the  gorgon-like 
head  —  that  peers  down  upon  the  scene 
from  the  oval  mirror  in  the  background 
above !  It  is  the  ancestral  ghost  —  the 
head  of  an  ancient  family  —  that  looks 
forth  distraught  upon  the  consummation 
of  the  ruin.  The  countess  poisons  her- 
self in  the  end. 

But  it  would  require  the  delicate  art  of 
a  Thackeray  or  a  Dickens  adequately  to 
do  justice  in  words  to  the  many  passages 
of  satirical  humor  that  abound  in  this 
series.  Any  one  interested  in  the  art  of 
Hogarth  could  not  do  better,  after  study- 
ing his  works  in  the  National  Gallery, 
than  pay  a  visit  to  the  Soane  Museum  in 
Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  where,  besides  the 
large  series  of  the  "  Election," —  four 
magnificent  and  mirth-provoking  exam- 
ples,—  there  is  the  "  Rake's  Progress,"  a 
series  of  eight  canvases,  twenty-four 
and  a  half  inches  high  by  thirty  and  a 
half  inches  wide,  ranking  next  in  im- 
portance to  his  works  in  the  National 
Gallery.  In  the  composition  of  the 
"  Gaming-house,"  where  the  spendthrift 
has  lost  all,  the  note  of  rage  and  despair 


is  terrific.  He  has  dropped  upon  one 
knee,  facing  the  spectator  and  occupying 
the  foreground,  throwing  one  arm  up 
and  the  other  down,  forming  a  tense  and 
oblique  line  shooting  from  the  floor  up- 
ward of  the  most  dramatic  intensity 
imaginable.  It  seems  to  rend  the  air 
like  a  diabolical  screech,  in  which  the 
last  chord  of  reason  is  forever  snapped 
asunder.  But  the  note  of  pathos  under- 
lying this  series,  and  which  should  not  be 
overlooked,  is  in  the  love  of  the  girl  who, 
though  in  the  outset,  it  is  seen,  the  rake 
has  seduced  and  abandoned,  yet  sticks 
by  him  through  thick  and  thin  with  the 
faithfulness  known  only  to  true  love  ;  now 
appearing  with  her  child  in  the  back- 
ground in  the  "  Marriage  "  of  the  rake  to 
the  ugly  old  one-eyed  heiress ;  again  com- 
ing forward  in  the  nick  of  time  to  save 
him  from  a  debtor's  jail  with  her  all  in 
the  "  Arrest " ;  and  in  the  end  nursing 
him,  all  broken  in  grief,  in  his  final  wind- 
up  in  the  "  Mad-house."  It  is  enough 
to  wring  the  stoutest  heart. 

Nor  is  the  art  displayed  by  Hogarth 
in  these  things  one  whit  inferior  to  his 
power  of  description.  Apart  from  their 
moralistic  teachings,  they  are  great  works 
of  art.  To  return  to  our  detail :  Observe 
how  beautifully  the  light  falls  upon  the 
draperies  of  the  group !  How  it  envelops 
them !  The  blue  of  the  bridegroom's  gar- 
ment swims  gently  into  the  bride's  white 
silk  robe.  A  harmonious  whole  per- 
vades his  works,  a  refinement  and  sober 
dignity  that  will  not  allow  of  any  bright 
and  spotty  coloring.  He  is  a  chiaroscu- 
rist;  he  does  not  lock  at  color  apart 
from  its  value  of  light  and  shade ;  and  in 
this  he  stands  on  modern  ground,  on  the 
ground  of  the  great  Venetians,  of  the 
Dutchmen,  and  of  the  Spaniards.  He 
doubtless  owed  much  to  his  schooling  as 
an  engraver,  having  been  led  thereby, 
perforce,  to  view  nature  in  its  vital  as- 
pects of  light  and  shade.  In  the  general 
lighting   of  his   pictures  he   follows  the 


28 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


traditions   of  the    Dutch    and    Flemish 
school. 

Hogarth  shows  his  originality  equally 
in  his   portraits  as   in   his  other  works. 
The  sentiment  displayed  in  his  "  Portrait 
of  Garrick  and  his  Wife  "  cannot  fail  to 
please    most    people.      That    delightful 
creature  stepping   up  lightly  and  play- 
fully from  behind  to  relieve  Garrick  of 
his  pen  must  have  engaged  the  artist's 
fancy.      Evidently   her   "  Little    Davy," 
as  he  was  called,  has  failed  to  hear,  in 
his  abstraction,  the  repeated  summons  of 
the  dinner-bell,  engrossed  as  he  is  writing 
his    prologue    to    Foote's   "  Comedy   of 
Taste  " ;  and  one  may  even  fancy  the  wit 
and  pleasantry  of  the  old-time  prologue 
reflected  in  the  lines  of  his  genial  counte- 
nance.    There   is   also  in    this   pleasing 
conceit  of  the  artist  a  suggestion,  as  it 
were,  of  a  harmonious  home  life  that  one 
feels  must  have  been  the  fortunate  lot  of 
the  amiable  pair.     Hogarth  was  an  in- 
timate  friend  of  Garrick,  of  whom  the 
latter  said :    "  I  love  him  as  a  man  and 
reverence  him  as  an  artist."     But  he  must 
have  had  a  very  choleric  temper,  for  one 
day  —  presumably  when  he  had  just  fin- 
ished the  portrait  in  question  —  a  dispute 
arose  between  the  two  upon  the  subject, 
when  the  artist,  in  a  fit  of  irritation,  drew 
his  brush  across  the  face.     It  is  for  this 
reason,  it  is  said,  that  the  eyes  of  Garrick, 
being  coarsely  painted  and  ill-drawn,  are 
evidently   by   another   hand.     The   pic- 
ture remained  unpaid  for  at  his  death, 
when  the  artist's  widow  sent  it  to  Gar- 
rick without  any  demand.     The  figures 
are  life-size,  and  the  canvas,  which  mea- 
sures three  feet  four  inches  wide  by  four 
feet  two  inches  high,  belonged  to  Queen 
Victoria,  and  was  in  her  private  gallery  at 
Windsor    Castle,   where    I    was    kindly 
granted  permission  to  go  at  will  in  the 
absence  of  the   royal  family.     It  is  re- 
markably well  preserved,  though  the  col- 
oring may  have  gone  a  little  black.     But 
it  is  a  fact  worthy  of  remark  that  all  the 


canvases  of  Hogarth  will  be  found  in 
very  excellent  preservation  and  as  though 
painted  not  long  ago ;  whereas  the  works 
of  much  later  men — Reynolds,  Turner, 
Wilkie,  and  others  —  are  cracked  and 
faded  generally.  The  dress  of  the  lady 
is  yellow,  and  the  coat  of  the  other  dark 
blue. 

It  was  upon  the  completion  of  the 
National  Portrait  Gallery,  and  prior  to  its 
being  thrown  open  to  the  public  in  the 
spring  of  1896,  that  I  was  kindly  granted 
leave,  by  its  director,  Mr.  Cust,  to  work 
on  the  engraving  of  the  portrait  of  Ho- 
garth by  himself  shown  as  painting  the 
"  Comic  Muse,"  which  canvas  now  does 
honor  to  one  of  the  upper  rooms  of  the 
gallery  —  Room  11.  This  shows  the  ar- 
tist in  his  sixty-first  year — six  years  be- 
fore his  death.  His  shaven  face,  closely 
cropped  hair,  and  cap  thrown  to  one  side, 
gives  point  to  Leigh  Hunt's  remark  upon 
appearance — that  he  had  a  sort  of  "  know- 
ing jockey  look."  He  is  described  in 
Dobson's  excellent  memoir  of  him  as  "  a 
sturdy,  outspoken,  honest,  obstinate,  pug- 
nacious little  man ;  ...  as  a  companion 
he  was  witty  and  genial.  .  .  .  He  liked 
good  clothes,  good  living,  good  order  in 
his  household ;  and  he  was  proud  of  the 
rewards  of  industry  and  respectability. 
As  a  master  he  was  exacting  in  his  de- 
mands, but  punctual  in  his  payments;  as 
a  servant  he  did  a  full  day's  work  and  in- 
sisted upon  his  wage." 

The  canvas  is  small,  measuring  four- 
teen and  a  half  by  fifteen  and  a  half 
inches,  and  is  in  excellent  condition,  being 
preserved  under  glass,  as  are  the  Eng- 
lish pictures  generally.  If  this  were  not 
the  case,  the  London  fog  would  soon 
cause  their  deterioration.  On  the  palette 
which  the  artist  holds  may  be  seen  the 
fewness  of  the  colors  which  he  employed. 
He  did  not  experiment  with  newly  dis- 
covered colors,  as  did  Reynolds  and 
others,  which  is  one  reason  for  the  endur- 
ing quality  of  his  works.     His  sharp  and 


THE    SHRIMP   GIRL— A   SKETCH    BY   WILLIAM    HOGARTH. 


NATIONAL   GALLERY,   LONDON, 


WILLIAM    HOGARTH 


29 


incisive  manner  may  be  noted  in  the  way 
he  touches  in  his  lights  and  in  the  firm- 
ness of  his  modeling;  while  contrasted 
with  this  is  the  treatment  of  the  shadows, 
which  are  clear,  deep,  and  broad.  But 
the  coloring  throughout  —  the  fine,  warm, 
silvery  tone,  reminding  one  of  true  day- 
light—  is  certainly  very  fine.  The  coat 
is  green,  the  breeches  of  a  dull  reddish 
tone,  the  floor  of  a  neutral  brownish  tint, 
the  canvas  upon  the  easel  of  a  warm  gray, 
and  the  background  delightful  in  its  neu- 


trality and  depth.  As  a  bit  of  coloring 
it  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated,  and  a 
glance  then  at  the  pictures  surrounding 
it  will  convince  any  one  of  its  immeasura- 
ble superiority  and  refinement.  It  was 
standing  before  this  little  Hogarth  and 
sighing  in  admiration  over  it  that  a  fa- 
mous American  artist  —  a  genius  of  our 
day — said  to  me  in  a  partly  confidential 
tone :  "  Let  them  talk  as  they  please,  but 
the  English  never  had  but  one  artist,  and 
that  artist  was  Hogarth."  T.  C. 


SIR  JOSHUA   REYNOLDS 


GEORGIANA,    DUCHESS   OF   DEVONSHIRE,    BY   SIR    JOSHUA   REYNOLDS. 


COLLECTION    OF    EARL    SPENCLR,    ALTHORP. 


CHAPTER   II 

SIR   JOSHUA    REYNOLDS 
(1723-1792) 

IF  family  anecdote  is  to  pass  current  for  history,  it  would  seem 
that  all  the  famous  painters  were  infant  prodigies  with  the 
pencil.  They  were  all  of  them  idle  school-boys  who  spoiled 
text-books  with  marginal  drawings,  charcoaled  newly  whitewashed 
walls,  and  outlined  various  animals  on  stone,  wood,  or  any  smooth 
surface  that  came  to  hand.  Reynolds  was  no  exception  to  the 
rule.  He,  too,  defaced  wall  and  book,  and  once,  having  backed 
up  a  Latin  exercise  with  graphic  delineation,  his  unsympathetic 
father  recorded  his  opinion  of  it  thus:  "This  was  drawn  by 
Joshua  in  school  out  of  pure  idleness."  Of  course  after  Joshua  be- 
came famous  his  father  was  pleased  to  remember  these  supposed 
signs  of  incipient  genius ;  and  had  he  tried  hard  he  might  have 
remembered  signs  of  the  same  sort  shown  by  his  ten  other  children, 
who  did  not  become  famous.  All  children  use  the  pencil,  make 
rhymes,  and  fight  mimic  battles  "  out  of  pure  idleness,"  but  these 
commonplace  facts  of  child  life  are  afterward  remembered  only  of 
the  great  painters,  poets,  and  generals.  Reynolds's  figures,  like 
Giotto's  sheep,  would  seem  to  prove  the  boy  in  the  artist  rather 
than  the  artist  in  the  boy. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  about  Sir  Joshua's  childhood. 
He  was  born  at  Plympton,  July  16,  1723,  and  probably  received 
a  better  education  at  the  hands  of  his  clerical  father  than  most  boys 
of  his  time.  There  was  some  talk  at  first  of  his  studying  medicine, 
but  matters  shaped  themselves  otherwise.  The  youth  wished  to 
be  a  painter,  and  at  eighteen  he  was  sent  up  to  London  to  study 
painting  under  Hudson,  with  whom  he  remained  for  two  years, 
learning  something  about  the  way  the  old  masters  drew,  and  paint- 
3  33 


34  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

ing  some  portraits  on  his  own  account.  Then  he  suddenly  left 
London,  returning  to  Devonshire,  where  he  passed  some  time,  to  no 
profit,  as  he  afterward  seemed  to  think.  Later  he,  with  two  sisters, 
took  a  house  at  Plymouth,  and  in  1 746  he  was  again  in  London, 
painting  portraits  for  a  living,  and  trying  to  get  on  in  the  world. 

He  was  possessed  of  social  qualities  and  soon  made  friends. 
Fortunately  enough  for  him,  he  won  the  good  opinion  of  Captain 
Keppel,  who  invited  the  young  painter  to  go  with  him  to  the  Medi- 
terranean on  his  ship  the  Centurion.  Reynolds  accepted,  voy- 
aging to  Gibraltar  and  Algiers,  and  painting  portraits  whenever 
the  opportunity  was  afforded.  In  1749  he  found  himself  in  Leg- 
horn, and  soon  after  in  Rome,  where  for  two  years  he  gave  himself 
up  to  a  study  of  the  Italians,  chiefly  Michelangelo  and  Raphael. 
It  was  while  studying  in  the  Vatican  that  he  caught  cold,  became 
deaf,  and  was  compelled  to  use  an  ear-trumpet  for  the  rest  of  his 
life.  He  spent  some  months  in  the  year  1752  studying  the  pic- 
tures at  Florence,  Parma,  and  Venice,  shortly  afterward  returning 
by  Paris  to  London,  where  he  at  once  set  up  a  studio  in  St.  Mar- 
tin's Lane  and  began  portrait-painting  as  a  profession. 

At  first  his  style  was  not  applauded  by  the  painters,  and  Ellis 
told  him  he  did  not  paint  in  the  least  like  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller. 
His  method  was  somewhat  novel,  but  he  saw  to  it  that  the  innova- 
tion should  not  be  too  startling  for  public  approval.  He  met  with 
encouragement  almost  from  the  start.  The  Duke  of  Devonshire 
and  his  friend  Keppel  gave  him  commissions ;  others  followed,  and 
the  painter  was  soon  able  to  move  to  Great  Newport  Street  and  to 
raise  his  prices.  Something  of  a  courtier,  and  always  a  gentle- 
man, Reynolds  had  little  trouble  in  making  his  way  with  the  great 
people  of  the  day,  noble  and  otherwise.  It  was  not  long  before  he 
knew  almost  every  one  of  note.  Johnson,  Burke,  Goldsmith,  Gar- 
rick,  Wilkes,  became  his  dining  companions  at  "The  Club"  and 
elsewhere ;  and  their  table-talk  was  for  many  years  the  town 
talk.  In  this  brilliant  circle  Reynolds  himself  cut  no  inconsider- 
able figure,  for  at  thirty  he  had  achieved  a  fame  that  never  left  him. 

The  larger  his  acquaintance,  the  greater  seemed  his  success  as 
a  portrait-painter.  He  had  so  many  orders  that  assistants  had  to 
be  called  in.  Again  he  moved  to  more  spacious  quarters  in 
Leicester  Square,  and  again  he  raised  his  prices.  He  was  growing 
rich,  and  advertised  the  fact  by  setting  up  a  coach.  In  1768  came 
the  founding  of  the  Royal  Academy.      Reynolds  was  made  its  first 


SIR    JOSHUA     REYNOLDS  35 

president,  and  the  king  knighted  him.  Five  years  later  Oxford 
gave  him  the  degree  of  D.C.L.,  and  he  was  appointed  painter  to 
the  king.  Honors  were  falling  fast  upon  him,  but  his  head  was 
not  turned  by  them,  and  for  all  that  he  was  the  first  portrait-painter 
of  his  time,  he  never  relaxed  his  industry.  He  believed  firmly  in 
the  efficacy  of  labor,  and  was  never  idle.  At  his  apogee  he  was 
painting  a  hundred  and  fifty  portraits  a  year.  In  1781,  and  again 
in  1783,  he  made  short  trips  in  Belgium  and  Holland,  studying  and 
making  notes  of  the  pictures  there ;  but  as  soon  as  he  returned  to 
London  he  took  up  the  brush  again  like  a  young  aspirant,  trying 
with  each  new  picture  to  rise  above  himself. 

At  sixty-six,  in  the  full  flush  of  his  power,  his  labors  were  sud- 
denly stopped.  While  painting,  one  day,  the  sight  of  his  left  eye 
grew  blurred.  He  put  down  the  brush,  and  never  took  it  up 
again.  In  a  few  weeks  he  was  blind  in  one  eye  and  the  other  was 
affected.  Some  quarrel  or  misunderstanding  arose  in  the  Royal 
Academy,  and  Sir  Joshua  resigned  its  presidency,  then  resumed  it 
again  at  the  king's  request,  but  finally  gave  it  up  in  1790,  after 
twenty-one  years  of  rule.  He  never  married,  his  family  were  dead 
or  scattered,  and  with  his  occupation  gone  the  painter  failed  rapidly. 
He  died  February  23,  1792  ;  and,  after  a  funeral  which  all  London 
attended,  he  was  buried  beside  Sir  Christopher  Wren  in  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral.  He  left  behind  him  a  great  reputation,  a  vast  number 
of  pictures  (chiefly  portraits),  his  "  Academy  Discourses"  (so  good 
in  style  that  at  one  time  Johnson  was  supposed  to  have  written 
them),  and  sixty  thousand  pounds  in  money. 

The  manner  in  which  Sir  Joshua  ordered  his  personal  life  is 
indicative  of  the  spirit  that  influenced  his  art.  There  was  nothing 
erratic,  venturesome,  or  impulsive  about  either.  It  is  difficult  to 
believe  that  the  man  at  any  time,  either  in  life  or  in  art,  possessed 
much  fire,  passion,  or  romance.  He  was  too  calm  for  either  love 
or  hatred,  too  conservative  for  brilliancy,  too  philosophical  for 
enthusiasm.  In  art  he  placed  less  reliance  upon  inspiration  than 
upon  intelligent  knowledge,  believed  the  gospel  of  genius  to  be 
work,  and  thought  originality  a  new  way  of  saying  old  truths. 
Such  ideas  as  these  form  the  chief  counts  in  his  discourses  to  the 
students  of  the  Royal  Academy.  "  Excellence  is  granted  to  no 
man  but  as  the  reward  of  labor."  And  again  :  "  Have  no  de- 
pendence on  your  own  genius ;  if  you  have  great  talents,  industry 
will  improve  them ;    if  you  have  but  moderate  abilities,  industry 


36  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

will  supply  their  deficiency."  His  three  stages  of  an  art  education 
were,  first,  learning  the  grammar  of  art ;  secondly,  laying  in  a  stock 
of  ideas  from  the  old  masters ;  thirdly,  independent  action,  but  in 
moderation. 

And  Sir  Joshua  usually  practised  what  he  preached.  He 
hugged  conservatism,  held  fast  to  the  traditions,  and  tried  to  keep 
his  genius  in  abeyance  to  rule  and  method.  That  he  had  genius 
cannot  be  denied ;  but  in  his  own  mind  he  confounded  it  with 
energy,  and  thought  himself  successful  through  work.  He  had 
slaved  over  execution,  he  had  studied  the  art  of  the  past,  and  with 
much  labor  had  made  other  people's  excellences  his  own.  Natu- 
rally he  thought  work  and  education  accounted  for  his  success. 
Undoubtedly  they  were  a  great  aid  to  him.  The  stock  of  ideas 
from  the  old  masters  helped  him ;  his  borrowings  from  others  and 
his  powers  of  assimilation  helped  him ;  but  many  painters  have 
possessed  these  qualities  and  yet  never  attained  high  rank.  Suc- 
cess as  the  result  of  such  accomplishments  would  explain  genius 
out  of  existence.  Sir  Joshua's  fame  does  not  rest  upon  them. 
There  was  nothing  in  his  technical  mastery,  wherever  or  however 
he  got  it,  upon  which  to  base  a  great  reputation.  His  technique 
was  the  weakest  feature  of  his  art. 

Sir  Joshua's  "  borrowings  "  have  been  much  talked  about.  It  is 
true  he  could  absorb  excellences  in  others  as  silently  and  as  grace- 
fully as  Raphael,  and  leave  less  of  a  trail  behind  ;  but  it  should  be 
borne  in  mind  that  the  education  of  the  painter  in  eighteenth-century 
England  was  largely  a  matter  of  "  borrowings."  All  the  students  of 
the  time  copied  Raphael,  Correggio,  and  Guido,  and  such  a  thing 
as  a  thorough  academic  training  under  a  skilled  master  was  not  to 
be  obtained.  Indeed,  it  is  not  pushing  the  facts  too  hard  to  say 
that  there  was  not  a  perfect  craftsman  in  the  school.  Deficiency 
in  training  was  made  up  for  by  taking  hints  from  the  old  masters 
and  by  practising  observation.  Reynolds  had  greater  chances 
than  the  others,  and  he  improved  them.  "  I  know  no  man  who 
has  passed  through  life  with  more  observation  than  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,"  said  Johnson. 

What  he  observed  as  a  pupil  under  Hudson  we  have  slight 
means  of  knowing.  Hudson  was  hard  and  dry  in  method,  but,  like 
all  the  painters  of  the  time,  he  reverenced  Van  Dyck.  And  the 
Van  Dyck  doctrine  of  "  painting  noble  men  nobler  still "  Reynolds 
accepted  in  measure.      He  told  his  Academy  students  that  it  was 


PORTRAH    'M     LORD    HEATHFIELD,    BY    SIR    JOSHUA    REYNOLDS 

NATI>  '■     .1     GALLERY,    LONDON, 


SIR    JOSHUA     REYNOLDS  37 

the  duty  of  the  portrait-painter  "  to  aim  at  discovering  the  perfec- 
tions only  of  those  whom  he  is  to  represent" — a  maxim  he  himself 
did  not  always  follow,  though  doubtless  he  believed  in  it.  And  of 
course  he  believed  in  the  Italians,  for  they  were  the  fashion  of 
the  day.  In  Rome,  like  many  another  painter,  he  was  at  first  disap- 
pointed in  Raphael,  but  afterward  grew  very  fond  of  his  work,  and 
in  consequence  declared  that  taste  in  art  was  not  natural,  but 
acquired ;  not  on  the  surface,  but  underneath.  Michelangelo  im- 
pressed him  instantly  and  lastingly.  He  talked  about  him  all  his 
life,  held  him  up  as  a  model  to  his  students,  but  he  himself  did  not 
follow  him,  except  in  the  oft-cited  case  of  the  "  Mrs.  Siddons  as 
the  Tragic  Muse."  He  had  nothing  of  Michelangelo's  line,  form, 
or  spirit,  nothing  of  Raphael's  style  or  composition. 

He  talked  less  about  Correggio  and  the  Venetians,  yet  here 
he  helped  himself  more  freely.  It  is  not  difficult  to  put  a  hand  on 
the  supposed  Correggio  that  furnished  him  with  the  model  for  his 
coy  children.  Certainly  the  sidelong  glance,  the  wavy  hair,  the 
small  chin,  the  arch  bend  of  the  head,  came  from  Parma.  In  Ven- 
ice he  studied  Titian's  light  and  shade,  and  copied  it  in  parts,  as  he 
had  copied  Raphael's  figures  at  Rome.  Paolo  Veronese  also  had 
an  influence  on  his  color,  though  Sir  Joshua  talked  little  about 
him.  Nor  did  he  discourse  much  on  Guido  and  Guercino,  yet  one 
feels  that  his  nymphs  and  Venuses  were  drawn  from  those  sources 
—  affectation  and  all.  Besides  these  painters,  he  had  the  contem- 
porary admiration  for  the  Carracci :  the  eclecticism  of  Bologna  was 
in  both  his  theory  and  his  art,  and  he  even  recommended  Lodovico 
Carracci  as  a  model  in  painting. 

But  notwithstanding  Sir  Joshua's  admiration  for  the  Bolognese, 
he  was  a  very  good  judge  of  painting.  He  had  not  studied  the 
art  of  Europe  without  profit.  In  the  main  he  was  right  about 
Michelangelo,  right  in  thinking  Velasquez's  "Innocent  X"  one 
of  the  greatest  portraits  in  the  world,  right  in  thinking  that  Jan 
Steen's  style  "  might  become  even  the  design  of  Raphael."  He 
knew  very  well  how  a  thing  should  be  done,  but  he  did  not  always 
know  how  to  do  it.  "  Not  having  the  advantage  of  an  early  aca- 
demical education,  I  never  had  the  facility  of  drawing  the  naked 
figure  which  an  artist  ought  to  have."  No,  he  had  not.  His 
drawing  of  the  figure  was  tentative,  hesitating,  uncertain,  hardly 
ever  complete  or  wholly  satisfactory.  Hands  he  sometimes  drew 
easily,  and  faces  he   understood  better  than  anything  else  —  not 


146589 


38  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

always  drawing  them  truly,  but  painting  them  very  cleverly  with 
the  brush,  and  giving  the  fleshy  texture  with  much  force.  If  one 
compares  the  "  Lord  Heathfield,"  the  "  Dr.  Johnson,"  or  any 
other  portrait  by  Reynolds,  with  the  "Cornelius  van  der  Geest" 
portrait  attributed  to  Van  Dyck  in  the  National  Gallery,  the  dif- 
ference between  the  tentative  and  the  absolute  will  be  immediately 
apparent.  The  drawing  of  the  mouth,  nose,  eyes,  cheeks,  and 
forehead  in  the  "Van  der  Geest"  is  positive,  done  easily,  surely, 
unostentatiously  ;  that  of  the  "Heathfield"  is  rambling,  questioning, 
groping.  Doubtless  much  of  Sir  Joshua's  unevenness  was  due  to 
frequent  emendation, —  his  wish  to  better  each  part, —  but  that  in 
itself  is  proof  of  uncertainty.  Still,  though  never  having  the  posi- 
tiveness  of  a  Raphael,  his  drawing  had  a  picturesque  quality  about 
it  that  rather  helped  than  hurt  his  purpose.  His  art  was  not  aca- 
demic and  therefore  did  not  need  severity  or  absolute  accuracy. 

Sir  Joshua's  success  with  composition  was  not  greater  than 
with  drawing.  He  could  pose  a  portrait-figure  happily  enough, 
but  his  so-called  "historical  "  pictures  were  deficient  in  invention  and 
imagination.  He  could  not  see  nymphs  and  Venuses  and  classic 
groups  except  as  some  old  master  had  seen  them  before  him ;  and 
because  he  saw  portrait-subjects,  and  did  not  see  figure-subjects,  is 
one  reason  why  he  succeeded  with  the  former  and  virtually  failed 
with  the  latter.  At  times,  however,  he  was  very  clever  in  compos- 
ing a  family  group,  as  the  "  Lady  Cockburn  and  Children  "  will 
exemplify.  The  manner  in  which  he  has  woven  and  intertwined 
the  lines  of  the  figures  with  the  drapery,  knit  the  whole  group  to- 
gether in  form  and  color,  and  made  a  complete  ensemble,  is  worthy 
of  all  praise. 

Color  he  experimented  with  all  his  life.  He  believed  that  the 
secret  of  it  was  known  to  the  Venetians,  but  lost.  "  There  is  not 
a  man  on  earth  who  has  the  least  notion  of  coloring ;  we  all  have  it 
equally  to  seek  for  and  find  out,  as  at  present  it  is  totally  lost  to 
the  art."  Sir  Joshua  sought  for  it  with  all  pigments,  mediums,  and 
methods,  and  with  some  unfortunate  results.  In  his  experimental 
canvases  painted  during  his  early  and  middle  periods  he  at  times 
used  fugitive  blues,  lakes,  carmines,  orpiments,  mixing  them  with 
oil,  wax,  varnish  —  almost  anything  that  would  produce  a  desired 
effect.  But  the  effect  was  often  transient ;  the  colors  fled  the  can- 
vas, the  lights  bleached,  the  shadows  darkened,  and  as  a  result 
many  of  his  otherwise  fine  portraits  are  to-day  pallid  and  cold.     In 


SIR    JOSHUA     REYNOLDS  39 

fact,  Sir  Joshua's  fading  color  was  something  of  a  town  j'est,  and 
the  girding  Walpole  suggested  that  his  pictures  should  be  paid  for 
in  annuities,  to  last  as  long  as  the  pictures  lasted. 

The  painter  felt  badly  enough  about  his  fleeing  colors,  and  he 
so  mended  his  manner  that  many  of  his  later  canvases  gave  no 
cause  for  criticism  on  that  score.  Some  of  them  are  to-day  in 
excellent  preservation.  Moreover,  they  are  fuller  and  richer  than 
his  earlier  works.  In  color,  as  in  light,  he  finally  returned  to 
Rubens.  The  "  Lady  Cockburn  and  Children  "  shows  how  ornate 
he  could  be  and  still  keep  within  the  bounds  of  good  taste.  Sir 
Joshua  was  not  quite  correct  in  saying  no  man  living  had  any 
notion  of  color.  He  himself  had  a  shrewd  knowledge  of  it.  His 
dictum  about  the  use  of  warm  and  cold  colors  argues  nothing 
whatever.  He  produced  fine  pieces  of  color  on  more  than  one 
occasion,  not  by  virtue  of  any  law  or  rediscovered  secret,  but  be- 
cause he  had  the  color-instinct.  Were  he  as  much  of  a  draftsman 
as  a  colorist,  no  one  would  be  able  to  find  many  holes  in  his  armor. 
As  a  brushman  he  was  not  remarkable,  though  effective,  and  occa- 
sionally he  struck  off  the  ornaments  of  a  dress  or  the  flow  and 
fall  of  hair  with  the  positiveness  of  a  Velasquez.  But  he  was  too 
careful,  as  a  rule,  to  trust  the  quick  stroke.  More  often  he 
thumbed  and  kneaded,  amending  with  "just  another  touch,"  until 
finally  the  surface  looked  labored — "  bready,"  as  they  say  in  the 
studios.  Freedom  of  handling,  in  the  Frans  Hals  sense,  was  not 
known  to  any  member  of  the  school.  Romney  and  Raeburn  and 
Lawrence  were  dashing  enough,  to  be  sure ;  but  sometimes  they 
struck  wide  of  the  mark.  They  never  had  the  certain  brush  of  a 
Hals. 

It  might  be  thought  from  his  art  principles  that  Sir  Joshua 
would  have  evolved  a  style,  a  manner  somewhat  like  Raphael,  the 
Carracci,  or  even  the  eclectic  Mengs ;  but  he  never  did.  He 
talked  much  of  things  established,  but  took  good  care  not  to  have 
them  too  firmly  established  with  him.  Every  picture  he  painted 
was,  in  measure,  different  from  its  predecessor.  He  was  changing 
and  improving  with  each  effort,  always  striving  for  some  new 
excellence,  always  ready  to  adopt  a  new  suggestion.  He  might 
lack  in  early  training,  but  he  missed  no  opportunity  in  later  study. 
Painstaking,  industrious,  persevering  in  the  acquisition  of  know- 
ledge, it  is  not  remarkable  that  he  finally  became  a  painter  of  un- 
usual   culture.      He    never    was    quite    spontaneous,    never    quite 


40  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

original  in  the  sense  of  inventing  a  method  wholly  his  own,  never 
quite  perfect  in  craftsmanship.  If  examined  closely,  many  of  his 
works  will  be  found  wanting.  Take,  for  instance,  the  portrait  of 
"  Lady  Elizabeth  Foster."  It  is  not  drawn,  modeled,  or  painted. 
The  features  want  articulation,  the  figure  lacks  solidity  and  sub- 
stance, the  color  is  chilly,  the  whole  picture,  even  regarded  as  a 
sketch,  lacks  force.  It  will  not  stand  by  its  technique  alone.  Yet, 
in  spite  of  its  sins  of  omission  and  commission,  the  portrait  is  most 
engaging,  full  of  charm,  full  of  loveliness.  What  is  it  about  the 
work  —  about  all  of  Sir  Joshua's  portraiture  —  that  appeals  to 
us  so  strongly  ? 

It  has  been  said  that  a  portrait-painter  puts  no  more  in  a  head 
than  there  is  in  his  own,  which  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  every 
artist  paints  his  own  point  of  view.  This  was  true  of  Sir  Joshua. 
With  all  his  eclecticism  and  his  absorptions  from  hither  and  yon, 
he  never  forsook  his  own  individual  way  of  seeing  things.  If  there 
was  any  struggle  between  the  portrait-model  before  him  and  the 
established  Italian  or  Dutch  method  of  doing  a  portrait,  it  generally 
resulted  in  his  trusting  his  own  eyes.  In  the  canvas  the  painter 
outbalanced  academic  rule,  and  to  this  day  every  one  of  his  por- 
traits bears  the  individual  stamp  and  seal  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

Now  Sir  Joshua's  view  was  peculiarly  attractive.  He  was  con- 
versant with  the  best  side  of  social  England  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, and  was,  moreover,  a  man  of  good  breeding,  refinement,  and 
sensitive  perceptions.  Naturally  he  was  in  sympathy  with  every- 
thing well-bred  and  refined  in  his  sitter.  He  saw  that  phase  of 
character  acutely,  and  selected  it  as  best  suited  for  his  purpose. 
If  there  was  anything  manly  about  a  man,  feminine  about  a  woman, 
or  childlike  about  a  child,  he  noticed  it  at  once.  And  these  were 
the  qualities  upon  which  he  concentrated  his  strength.  He 
appealed  frankly  and  boldly  to  the  taste  for  dignity,  charm,  win- 
someness,  loveliness,  in  the  personal  presence,  and  the  appeal  was 
not  in  vain  —  is  not  in  vain  to-day.  The  world  has  never  been  so 
deeply  in  love  with  the  beauty  of  the  ugly  that  it  could  not  enjoy 
the  beauty  of  the  comely  and  the  noble.  Nor  is  there  anything  of 
idealism  or  flattery  in  this  view.  Pleasing  qualities  are  just  as  real 
as  repulsive  ones.  The  painter  always  selects  what  he  shall  em- 
phasize. Some  there  be  who  select  the  greasy  qualities  of  Joan 
keeling  the  pot;  but  Sir  Joshua  preferred  painting  the  most  ele- 
vated and  agreeable  qualities  of  his  sitters. 


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SIR    JOSHUA     REYNOLDS  41 

This  was  particularly  true  of  his  women.  The  eternal  womanly 
he  saw  in  every  woman  —  saw  it  in  Kitty  Fisher  and  Nelly 
O'Brien  as  well  as  in  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire  and  Lady  Powis. 
Besides  this,  he  saw  in  some  haughtiness,  loftiness,  distinction  ;  in 
others  mildness,  maternal  feeling,  sadness ;  in  others  again,  gaiety, 
coquetry,  gracefulness.  How  shrewd  he  was  in  his  observation  of 
the  look,  the  pose,  the  smile  that  make  women  captivating !  How 
sensitive  he  was  to  the  young  girl's  modest  glance,  the  coquette's 
sly  roguery,  the  lady's  frank  demeanor !  The  witchery  of  women, 
the  fascination  of  the  sex,  the  nameless  something  that  leads  on  to 
love,  he  knew  by  heart,  though  no  wife  taught  him.  And  he 
knew  with  just  what  happy  incident  to  portray  them,  though  no 
old  master  gave  him  the  hint.  What,  for  instance,  could  be  more 
winning  than  the  "  Viscountess  Crosbie  "  coming  out  from  behind 
a  tree,  a  smile  upon  her  face,  and  her  hand  outstretched  in  greet- 
ing !  One's  first  exclamation  is  :  "  You  charming  creature  !  What 
a  pity  you  are  dead !  "  The  graceful  step  and  expectant  look  of 
"  Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devonshire,"  as  she  comes  down  the 
terrace  steps,  the  woman  still  in  the  duchess ;  the  loveliness  of 
"Mrs.  Bradyll"  and  the  "Ladies  Waldegrave " ;  the  coy  impish- 
ness  of  "Mrs.  Abington";  the  questioning  glance  of  "  Perdita 
Robinson  "  ;  the  demureness  of  "  Kitty  Fisher  "  —  how  very  attrac- 
tive they  all  are ! 

And  how  interested  we  become  in  the  subject !  You  cannot 
be  so  enthusiastic  over  the  women  of  Velasquez,  Rubens,  or  Hol- 
bein. Even  the  Venetian  women  of  Titian,  perfect  types  of  beauty 
as  they  are,  provoke  only  a  mild  curiosity  as  to  their  personality. 
We  rather  overlook  the  painted  in  the  painter.  But  Sir  Joshua's 
people  attract  us,  and  the  subject  —  the  much-despised  subject  of 
modern  art  —  has  weight  in  this  English  portraiture.  The  painter 
intended  that  it  should  have  weight  —  intended  that  people  should 
know  and  feel  the  charm  of  the  sitter.  It  is  matter  of  history  that 
he  had  the  most  noble  and  beautiful  women  of  England  for  sitters. 
They  look  it.  An  air  of  distinction  and  refinement  hangs  about 
them  as  easily  as  a  cloak.  Women  of  less  beauty  and  less  nobility 
sat  to  him,  but  their  pictures  were  never  his  great  successes.  He 
preferred  the  handsome  woman,  and  it  was  a  part  of  his  selective 
sense  that  led  him  to  paint  her  so  often.  He  did  not  and  could 
not  entirely  sympathize  with  the  plain  or  the  homely.  Sir  Joshua 
was  fortunate,  then,  in  having  attractive  subjects  for  his  art.  He 
< 


42  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

was  fortunate  again  in  having  an  attractive  point  of  view.  With 
such  winning  cards,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  he  had  two  points  out  of 
three  in  the  game  of  portraiture.  Had  he  been  as  successful  in 
the  third  point,  technique,  as  in  the  other  two,  he  would  have  ranked 
as  a  portrait-painter  with  Van  Dyck. 

His  children,  when  done  directly  from  life,  were  almost  as  suc- 
cessful as  his  women.  There  is  some  mannerism  about  the  majority 
of  them, —  a  reminiscence  of  the  way  Correggio  painted  children, 

—  but  they  are  no  less  childlike  and  graceful.  The  fancy  for  round 
eyes,  a  wide  smile,  and  a  sharp-pointed  chin  with  a  consequent 
mouselike  expression  of  face  prevails.  We  see  it  in  the  charming 
piece  of  the  "  Lady  Gertrude  Fitzpatrick  "  standing  on  a  hilltop,  in 
the  "Muscipula,"  the  "  Robinetta,"  the  "Strawberry  Girl,"  the 
"  Cupid  as  a  Link-boy."  Presumably  Sir  Joshua  employed  this 
peculiar  type  to  give  the  shy,  frightened,  or  nervous  character  of 
children,  and  if  so  he  certainly  succeeded;  but  he  is  more  pleasing 
when  he  gives  the  unconscious,  self-absorbed  character,  as  in  the 
richly  hued  "  Little  Fortune-teller,"  the  "  Dead  Bird,"  the  "  Master 
Bunbury,"  the  "Age  of  Innocence,"  or  the  little  "Miss  Bowles" 
with  the  dog. 

He  was  very  successful,  too,  with  portrait-groups  of  women 
with  children,  two  of  which  Mr.  Cole  has  engraved.  The  children 
in  the  group  with  Lady  Cockburn  are  arranged,  composed  —  posed, 
in  fact;  but  how  well  this  is  done,  and  how  firm  is  his  grasp  of  the 
salient  truths  of  childhood !  Then,  again,  what  could  be  more 
natural,  unconscious,  vivacious,  than  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire, 

—  the  "Beautiful  Duchess,"  as  she  was  called, —  playing  at  "hot 
cockles  "  with  her  infant  daughter  !  Both  pictures  were  painted  in 
the  painter's  mature  period,  when  he  had  arrived  at  the  height  of 
his  power,  and  both  are  excellent.  They  seize  upon  the  incidental, 
the  momentary,  which  was  discoursed  against  by  Sir  Joshua  in  favor 
of  the  general  and  the  permanent ;  but  he  himself  proved  more 
than  once  that  his  rules  for  the  "  grand  style  "  were  subject  to  many 
exceptions.  He  certainly  never  produced  richer,  fuller,  nobler, 
more  complete  works  of  art  than  these  two  portrait-pieces. 

His  success  with  portraits  of  men  was  perhaps  not  so  great. 
Occasionally  he  did  a  scholar  or  a  general  with  great  truth  and 
power,  but  he  seemed  to  have  more  sympathy  with  women  and 
children.  Every  Englishman  considers  the  "Lord  Heathfield "  a 
masterpiece,  and  in  its  original  state  it  was  undoubtedly  a  strong 


SIR    JOSHUA    REYNOLDS  43 

portrait.  Unfortunately,  one  of  its  owners  saw  fit  to  cut  it  down 
to  match  another  Reynolds  on  an  opposite  panel  in  his  house,  thus 
destroying  the  placing  of  the  figure  on  the  canvas ;  and  after  that 
it  was  repainted  somewhat.  It  is  still  a  noble  canvas,  in  spite  of 
bad  treatment,  and  shows  to-day  something  of  the  sturdy  manhood 
of  the  English  officer.  The  "  Dr.  Johnson  "  is  heavy  in  touch  and 
drawing,  but  portrays  with  much  effect  the  unwieldy  frame  and 
the  massive  features  of  the  irrepressible  doctor.  Sir  Joshua's 
portraits  of  himself,  of  Gibbon,  of  Goldsmith,  are  also  good  pieces 
of  characterization,  beside  which  the  flamboyant  "  Marquis  of 
Rockingham,"  the  too  heroic  "Keppel,"  the  over-dramatic  "Lord 
Ligonier"  will  not  stand  for  a  moment.  Whenever  Sir  Joshua 
tried  to  practise  his  "old  master"  theory  of  generalization  he  left 
something  to  be  desired.  He  had  not  enough  imagination  to  see 
the  abstract  like  a  Titian  or  a  Paolo  Veronese ;  he  needed  the 
concrete  before  his  eyes.  When  the  model  was  on  the  platform 
he  did  not  fail  to  see  truly,  and  even  at  times  powerfully ;  but 
whenever  he  wandered  off  to  do  the  heroic  or  the  grand  he  ran  to 
the  superficial. 

This  is  peculiarly  true  of  his  efforts  in  historical  painting.  The 
figure-piece  was  his  lifelong  aspiration,  but  never  his  success.  The 
"  Death  of  Dido,"  the  "Cleopatra,"  the  "Ugolino" — all  the  figure- 
pieces  he  ever  did — would  not  save  a  name  from  the  dust  of 
oblivion.  He  painted  half  a  dozen  landscapes,  but  he  never  pre- 
tended to  be  a  landscape-painter.  He  used  trees,  hills,  and  skies 
well  enough  as  a  background,  just  as  he  occasionally  painted  ani- 
mals after  Van  Dyck ;  but  they  were  mere  accessory  objects.  We 
may  dismiss  them  all,  for  Sir  Joshua  was  a  portrait-painter  pure 
and  simple.  The  limitation  is  not  to  his  discredit.  He  could  not 
have  chosen  a  loftier  field  to  work  in.  In  the  whole  realm  of  paint- 
ing there  is  nothing  so  difficult  to  produce  as  a  thoroughly  sat- 
isfactory portrait.  And  Sir  Joshua  produced  more  than  one  of 
them. 

Taking  him  for  all  and  all,  Reynolds  must  be  ranked  at  the 
head  of  the  English  school.  He  had  not  Hogarth's  originality,  nor 
Gainsborough's  delicacy,  nor  Romney's  spirit,  nor  Lawrence's 
skill ;  but  in  point  of  view,  taste,  intelligence,  and  breadth  of  ac- 
complishment, he  excelled  any  one  of  them.  Perhaps  he  had  more 
opportunities  than  the  others,  but  the  manner  in  which  he  seized 
the   opportunities   showed   his   ability.      Not  alone  did    peer    and 


44 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


duchess  rank  him  as  a  great  painter :  his  brothers  of  the  craft  ac- 
knowledged his  position,  and  all  through  the  works  of  his  contem- 
poraries and  followers  we  shall  find  traces  of  his  influence.  He 
was  virtually  the  founder  of  the  school  of  English  portrait-painters. 
He  led  the  procession,  and  public  opinion  for  a  hundred  years  has 
kept  him  in  the  lead. 


NOTES   BY  THE    ENGRAVER 


THE  arms  of  Gibraltar  are  a  castle 
with  a  key  hanging  to  the  gate,  in 
allusion  to  the  Rock  as  the  key  to  the 
Mediterranean.  The  portrait  of  Lord 
Heathfield  has  been  spoken  of  as  "  in  all 
respects  one  of  the  finest  and  most 
strikingly  characteristic  Sir  Joshua  ever 
painted.  The  intrepid  veteran,  firmly 
grasping  in  his  hand  the  key  of  the  for- 
tress, stands  like  the  Rock  of  which  he 
was  the  defender."  The  introduction  of 
the  key  into  the  general's  hand  has  been 
praised  in  the  highest  terms:  "  than  which 
imagination  cannot  conceive  anything 
more  ingenious  and  heroically  charac- 
teristic." 

The  background  is  a  glimpse  of  the 
Rock  with  a  gun  poised  on  its  brow  at  a 
steep  angle,  thus  suggesting  considerable 
altitude,  and  smoke  rising  from  other  ar- 
tillery, forming  by  its  density  an  admira- 
ble setting  for  the  head.  The  make-up 
of  the  background  is  said  to  allude  to 
the  celebrated  defense  of  the  fortress  in 
1779-83,  of  which  Lord  Heathfield,  then 
Lieutenant-General  Eliott,  was  the  hero. 

The  soft  tone  of  the  background  is 
grayed  delicately,  with  a  fine  feeling  for 
atmosphere,  and  recedes  gently,  growing 
warmer  and  more  golden  toward  the  ho- 
rizon as  it  meets  the  distant  blue  sea, 
where  a  touch  of  far-off  mountains  is 
seen.  The  coat  is  vermilion  —  not  flam- 
boyant, as  a  modern  would  do  it,  but 
toned  and  enriched  by  glazings  of  umber. 
Likewise  the  gray  breeches  and  waistcoat 


undergo  the  same  treatment  of  glazings 
and  scumblings,  that  give  an  agreeable 
quality  of  richness  to  the  texture.  The 
weather-beaten  face  is  dark  reddish,  in- 
clined to  purplish,  in  color;  and  notice 
that  the  forehead,  the  part  that  is  pro- 
tected by  the  hat  from  sun  and  wind,  is 
lighter.  This  is  an  observation  of  Sir 
Joshua's  as  modern  as  a  Sargent.  I  have 
heard  people  remark  on  seeing  this  head : 
"  There 's  a  beef-eater,  truly ! "  little  know- 
ing that  the  hale  old  veteran  was  a  strict 
vegetarian  all  his  life,  and  one  to  whom 
the  vegetarians  point  with  pride. 

The  artistic  treatment  that  Sir  Joshua 
gives  to  ornaments  such  as  the  brass 
key,  buttons,  and  gilt  setting  of  the  coat, 
could  not  be  surpassed  for  lightness  of 
touch  and  delicacy.  His  pictures,  being 
well  grounded  in  chiaroscuro,  lend  them- 
selves for  this  reason  admirably  to  en- 
graving. 

It  was  a  great  privilege  to  be  granted 
permission  to  visit  the  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire's apartments  at  Chatsworth  and  to 
be  given  every  facility  for  making  an 
engraving  after  his  beautiful  picture  by 
Reynolds  of  the  "  Duchess  of  Devonshire 
and  Child."  I  had  provided  myself  with 
a  photograph  which  I  supposed  was  from 
the  original,  and  which  was  sold  in  Lon- 
don as  such;  but,  lo  and  behold!  upon 
confronting  the  original  I  discovered  that 
my  photograph  was  from  a  copy  —  one 
which  I  subsequently  learned  was  made 
by  the  famous  Lawrence,  to  be  seen  at 


LADY    COCKBURN    AND    FAMILY,   BY    SIR   JOSHUA    REYNOLDS. 

NATIONAL   GALLERY,    LONDON. 


SIR    JOSHUA     REYNOLDS 


45 


Windsor  Castle  in  the  collection  of  the  late 
Queen.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  employ  a  photographer  of  London 
to  go  to  Chatsworth,  for  there  was  not  a 
photograph  to  be  found  in  any  of  the 
shops  of  London  that  was  taken  from 
the  original.  The  great  Lawrence  made 
very  fine  originals,  but  his  copies  must 
have  been  abominable  —  to  judge  from 
this  example. 

Here  is  a  picture  that  one  might  rave 
over,  and  one  that  would  repay  any  lover 
of  art,  who  finds  himself  as  near  Chats- 
worth  as  London,  to  take  a  run  out  for 
a  day  and  see.  He  would  find  other 
pictures  and  things  to  engage  his  admi- 
ration as  well  —  the  castle  and  grounds 
alone  being  among  the  most  magnificent 
in  the  kingdom.  In  this  work  we  see 
Reynolds  again  employing  a  most  origi- 
nal and  happy  idea.  Nothing  had  ever 
been  done  before  like  it.  He  breaks 
away  from  the  staid  and  courtly  dignity 
brought  over  from  the  Continent  by  Van 
Dyck,  and  which,  in  the  hands  of  follow- 
ers, had  become  well-nigh  stereotyped, 
and  gives  us  something  new,  something 
really  English,  that  speaks,  moreover,  the 
genius  of  the  nation  in  that  the  high-born 
lady  could  still  be  the  mother,  and  that 
it  derogated  nothing  from  her  dignity  to 
be  depicted  as  such  before  the  eyes  of  the 
world. 

This  canvas  was  finished  in  1786.  The 
personage  represented  is  the  same  "  beau- 
tiful duchess"  that  Sir  Joshua  painted 
some  years  previous  as  a  bride  under  the 
title  of  "  Georgiana,  Duchess  of  Devon- 
shire," she  —  the  daughter  of  Lady  Spen- 
cer—  having  then  married  the  Duke  of 
Devonshire.  Here  she  is  depicted  as  a 
young  mother  sporting  with  her  first-born. 
There  is  great  sweetness,  serenity,  and 
matronly  charm,  not  only  in  the  face,  but 
throughout  the  pose  of  the  body  ;  and  as 
for  the  infant, —  its  little  foot  thrown  for- 
ward following  the  action  of  its  hands, — 
its  whole  body  speaks.     Nothing  could 


be  more  characteristic  of  a  spirited  and 
healthy  child.  That  Reynolds  was  an 
original  observer  of  nature  this  instance 
may  clearly  show.  It  is  said  that  "babes 
and  sucklings  were  among  his  tutors. 
They  were  more  to  him  than  Raphael  had 
ever  been.  It  was  one  of  his  maxims 
that  the  gestures  of  children,  being  all 
dictated  by  nature,  are  graceful."  Note 
the  uncertain  fitful  movement  in  the  hands 
of  the  infant.  Modern  impressionism  has 
not  got  beyond  this.  Reynolds  does  not 
smudge  them,  nor  give  to  them  any  sin- 
gular contortion,  nor  leave  them  unfin- 
ished, for  this  would  be  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  spectator  to  them,  to  the 
injury  of  the  head,  which  should  com- 
mand the  main  interest.  It  is  an  error 
of  "  modern  impressionism  "  that  it  pur- 
posely blurs  or  leaves  unfinished  in  a  dis- 
agreeable stringy  condition  the  hands  or 
fingers,  with  the  idea  that  by  leaving 
such  important  parts  in  an  indefinite 
state  the  head  will  gain  thereby  in  value, 
whereas  the  very  opposite  result  is  at- 
tained :  the  eye  is  attracted,  the  attention 
is  aroused,  and  a  spirit  of  criticism  ex- 
cited—  nay,  invited. 

The  figures  in  this  picture  are  life-sized, 
and  the  coloring  of  the  whole  is  simple 
and  very  effective.  There  is  the  warm 
gray  sky  and  the  rich  deep  crimson  dam- 
ask curtain  forming  the  background  to 
the  figures,  and  the  sofa  is  also  of  this 
tone  of  red,  but  brighter.  Then  the  black 
satin  dress  of  the  lady  relieving  the  white 
robes  of  the  child  —  a  masterly  treatment 
of  two  of  the  most  difficult  tones  to  ren- 
der. The  landscape  beyond,  with  the 
large  vase  and  foliage,  is  composed  of 
soft  warm  harmonies  of  grayish  greens 
and  umbers.  A  picture  requires  but  few 
colors,  but  its  vital  requirement  is  light 
and  shade;  and  no  one  understood  this 
better  than  Reynolds. 

It  was  out  of  pure  kindness  that  Earl 
Spencer  not  only  granted  me  every  facil- 
ity for  making   an   engraving   after   his 


46 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


beautiful  work  by  Sir  Joshua  of  "  Geor- 
giana,  Duchess  of  Devonshire,"  but,  for 
the  advantage  of  obtaining  a  good  pho- 
tograph, had  this  ponderous  picture  — 
which  taxed  the  united  strength  of  four 
men  to  lift — removed  into  a  favorable 
light.  Only  a  love  of  art  could  have 
prompted  so  generous  an  act  of  courtesy, 
and  I  am  happy  to  record  this  as  but  an 
instance  of  the  kindness  I  have  met  with 
from  this  noble  people. 

This  work  had  not  been  photographed 
before,  save  in  one  instance,  and  then 
only  in  detail,  many  years  ago,  when  the 
science  had  not  attained  to  its  present- 
day  perfection.  His  Lordship  offered 
me  the  use  of  the  photograph  that  was 
then  made,  but  it  was  of  no  advantage 
whatever. 

Sir  Joshua  here  depicts  the  young 
duchess,  life-size,  as  a  bride,  shortly  after 
her  marriage  to  the  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire in  1774.  The  picture  is  at  Althorp 
House,  the  country-seat  of  Earl  Spencer, 
not  far  from  London.  It  hangs  in  the 
magnificent  hall  above  that  surrounds 
the  terminal  of  the  central  stairway,  and 
is  lighted  by  a  central  skylight.  As  a 
pendant  to  it,  there  is  hanging  not  far 
from  it  another  portrait  of  the  duchess 
by  Gainsborough,  full-length,  same  size, 
and  made  at  about  the  same  period.  It 
is  interesting  and  instructive  to  compare 
the  two  great  masters  hanging  thus  upon 
the  same  line.  My  own  preference  is 
given  to  Reynolds  as  being  the  sweeter 
and  gentler  manner,  not  only  as  to  com- 
position, but  to  color.  He  demonstrates 
in  his  coloring  what  one  of  the  greatest 
living  portrait-painters  is  continually 
preaching  to  his  pupils :  that  light  is 
golden  and  not  white  paint ;  and  who, 
moreover,  advocates,  as  Sir  Joshua  did, 
the  constant  study  of  the  great  works  of 
the  great  masters,  but  who  again,  like 
Reynolds,  acknowledges  the  wisdom  of 
"unrelaxing  study  of  nature  "  as  well. 

The    background    of   this    picture   is 


bathed  in  a  golden  neutral  tone.  The 
bride  is  in  soft  white  silk  of  a  creamy 
shade,  and  a  ray  of  sunlight  that  filters 
through  the  foliage  above  lightens  her 
face  and  glances  upon  the  marble  balus- 
trade where  her  hand  is  lightly  resting. 
From  the  arm  here,  as  it  recedes  into  the 
shade,  there  floats  a  gauzy  veil.  The 
face  is  suffused  with  the  glow  of  health, 
and  her  coiffure,  in  which  some  jewels 
sparkle,  is  finished  by  a  reddish  or  salmon- 
colored  feather.  The  figure  lies  well  in 
its  atmosphere.  It  is  recorded  that  some- 
times Sir  Joshua  was  the  recipient  of  such 
compliments  as  :  "  What  a  beautiful  head 
you  have  made  of  this  lady !  It  is  im- 
possible to  add  anything  to  its  advan- 
tage." To  one  such  he  replied  with 
much  feeling:  "It  does  not  please  me 
yet;  there  is  a  sweetness  of  expression  in 
the  original  which  I  have  not  been  able 
to  impart  to  the  portrait,  and  I  cannot 
therefore  think  it  finished,"  an  expression 
that  must  voice  the  feelings  of  the  vast 
majority  of  artists.  I  know  it  expresses 
my  own  sentiments  with  respect  to  my 
attempts  to  render  his  beautiful  things 
into  black  and  white. 

The  beautiful  picture  of  "  Lady  Cock- 
burn  [pronounced  "  Coburn  "]  and  her 
Children,"  which,  until  recently,  consti- 
tuted one  of  the  chief  ornaments  of  the 
National  Gallery,  and  among  the  British 
pictures  was  certainly  the  most  attrac- 
tive, is  now,  to  the  great  disappointment 
of  its  thousands  of  admirers,  vanished 
from  their  sight.  This  great  work  — 
with  a  number  of  others  of  minor  impor- 
tance—  was  bequeathed  to  the  British 
nation  by  Marianna  Augusta,  Lady  Ham- 
ilton, eight  years  ago;  but  upon  a  narrow 
scrutiny  of  the  lady's  noble  bequest,  the 
heirs  discovered  a  flaw  therein  of  suffi- 
cient legal  importance  to  empower  them 
to  send  deputies  of  the  law  to  the  gallery 
and  take  the  pictures  away.  The  beau- 
tiful lady  with  her  innocents  is  now  said 
to   have   passed  into  the  possession   of 


SIR    JOSHUA     REYNOLDS 


47 


some  moneyed  man  —  said  to  be  an  Afri- 
can—  at  an  enormous  figure;  and  thus 
will  this  delicate  work  of  art  wander 
about,  subject  to  the  caprice  and  the 
thousand  and  one  dangers  of  individual 
ownership,  until,  perchance,  in  some  fu- 
ture generation,  it  may  yet  again,  through 
the  munificence  of  another  noble  spirit, 
find  a  resting-place  under  the  loving  eye 
of  the  nation. 

This  work  is  painted  in  the  artist's  fin- 
est manner  and  at  the  ripest  period  of  his 
career  — 1775.  Here  we  see  Sir  Joshua 
at  his  best  —  in  his  happiest  mood.  For 
he  loved  to  paint  children,  and  the  beauty 
of  his  lady  sitter  and  the  importance  of 
the  subject  must  have  been  an  inspiration 
to  him.  And  it  is  probable  that  the  art- 
ist's own  estimate  of  the  work  may  be 
gathered  from  the  fact  that  he  painted 
his  name  and  the  date  of  its  completion 
on  the  edge  of  the  lady's  amber-colored 
mantle  where  it  is  joined  by  the  white 
fur  border.  It  is  scarcely  noticeable, 
forming  as  it  does  a  kind  of  ornamental 
finish.  In  the  engraving  it  is  even  less 
so,  since  it  is  not  possible  on  so  reduced 
a  scale  to  give  more  than  a  hint  of  it  and 
yet  at  the  same  time  suggest  by  bright, 
coarse  lines  the  glowing  quality  of  the 
color  of  this  mantle.  It  was  upon  this 
occasion,  while  thus  adding  his  name, 
that  Sir  Joshua  remarked  to  his  sitter: 
"  I  shall  be  handed  down  to  posterity  on 
the  hem  of  your  Ladyship's  garment." 
He  repeated  the  compliment  when  he 
painted  the  famous  Mrs.  Siddons  as 
the  "  Tragic  Muse."  The  great  actress, 
conceiving  it  to  be  a  piece  of  classic 
embroidery,  went  a  little  nearer  to  ex- 
amine, when  the  artist,  bowing,  said : 
"  I  could  not  lose  this  opportunity  of 
sending  my  name  to  posterity,"  etc.  She 
smiled  in  acknowledgment  of  the  com- 
pliment. When  the  picture  of  Lady 
Cockburn,  upon  being  finished,  "  was 
taken  into  the  exhibition-room,"  says 
Cunningham,  "such  was  the  sweetness 


of  the  conception  and  the  splendor  of 
the  coloring  that  the  painters,  who  were 
busied  with  their  own  performances, 
acknowledged  its  beauty  by  clapping  their 
hands." 

The  coloring  of  the  whole  is  glowing 
and  mellow ;  the  curtain  behind  the  fig- 
ures —  drawn  partly  aside  and  disclosing  a 
peep  of  landscape  with  warm  gray  clouds 
—  is  a  rich  maroon  in  tone,  and  floats 
gently  down  into  the  deep,  soft  tones  of 
the  background  shades,  that  give  relief 
to  the  delicious  peach-colored  garment 
of  the  boy,  who  is  partly  kneeling  on  his 
mother's  lap,  and  to  the  still  more  de- 
lightful amber-colored  mantle  of  the  mo- 
ther, which  falls  over  her  knees,  and  which 
glows  as  though  from  some  hidden  warmth 
of  its  own.  The  quality  of  the  tone  of  the 
white  fur  which  borders  this  mantle,  and 
melts  into  the  exquisite  white  about  the 
mother's  breast,  and  this  again  into  the 
pearly  and  rosy  tints  of  the  flesh,  is  quite 
indescribable  from  the  way  it  is  all  bound 
together  in  one  harmonious  fusion.  A 
pronounced  note  of  color,  and  one  which 
serves  to  give  value  to  the  rest,  is  that  of 
the  parrot, —  or  more  properly  macaw, — 
the  upper  portion  of  which  is  a  red  and 
the  lower  blue,  relieved  against  the  warm 
gray  tones  of  the  marble  column  behind. 

This  macaw,  by  the  way,  was  often 
painted  by  Sir  Joshua  and  introduced 
into  his  portrait-subjects.  Northcote,  a 
pupil  and  biographer  of  Reynolds,  tells 
us  how  the  bird  used  to  fly  in  fury  at  the 
picture  Northcote  painted  of  the  house- 
maid who  had  to  clean  after  the  bird, 
and  between  whom  and  it  no  love  was 
lost.  Sir  Joshua  frequently  repeated  the 
experiment,  putting  the  picture  down 
where  the  bird  was,  who  always  flew  at 
it  and  attacked  it  with  his  beak. 

Upon  the  subject  of  coloring,  Sir  Joshua, 
it  is  said,  often  took  pleasure  in  quoting 
the  remark  of  a  friend,  namely,  "  that  a 
picture  should  have  a  richness  in  its  tex- 
ture, as  if  the  colors  were  composed  of 


48 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


cream  or  cheese " ;  perhaps  he  would 
not  have  objected  to  some  luscious  fruit 
juices  being  added  as  well.  Ruskin 
deems  Reynolds  one  of  the  "  seven  su- 
preme colorists  of  the  world,"  the  other 
six  being  Titian,  Giorgione,  Correggio, 
Tintoret,  Veronese,  and  Turner.  He  also 
says  of  him :  "  Considered  as  a  painter 
of  individuality  in  the  human  form  and 
mind,  I  think  him,  even  as  it  is,  the  prince 


of  portrait-painters.  Titian  painted  nobler 
pictures,  and  Van  Dyck  had  nobler  sub- 
jects ;  but  neither  of  them  entered  so 
subtly  as  Sir  Joshua  did  into  the  minor 
varieties  of  human  heart  and  temper." 
The  figures  in  this  picture  are  life-sized, 
and  the  canvas,  which  is  in  excellent  pre- 
servation, measures  four  feet  six  inches 
high  by  three  feet  seven  and  a  half 
inches  wide.  T.  C. 


THOMAS   GAINSBOROUGH 


CHAPTER  III 

THOMAS    GAINSBOROUGH 

(1727-1788) 

THE  contrast  between  Reynolds  and  Gainsborough  is  perhaps 
not  so  sharply,  marked  as  biographers  and  critics  would  have 
us  believe.  The  one  was  not  wholly  a  creature  of  train- 
ing, nor  the  other  wholly  a  spontaneous  manifestation  of  genius ; 
and  while  it  may  make  a  striking  antithesis  to  say  that  Sir 
Joshua  painted  by  the  book,  and  Gainsborough  by  the  look,  it  also 
makes  a  somewhat  misleading  statement. 

Both  of  them  learned  what  they  could  from  past  art.  Reynolds 
was  the  better  student,  and  had  greater  opportunities ;  but  Gains- 
borough took  whatever  came  within  his  grasp,  and  his  art  shows 
nearly  as  many  Continental  influences  as  that  of  Sir  Joshua.  He 
was  more  self-absorbed,  more  individual  in  view,  and  hence  more 
original ;  but  originality,  in  the  sense  of  throwing  aside  all  traditions 
and  painting  only  what  one  sees  in  nature,  was  not  characteristic 
of  Gainsborough,  or  of  any  other  artist  in  history.  Painters  "go  to 
nature  "  after  they  have  found  out  how  other  painters  traveled  there 
before  them.  The  study  on  their  own  account  which  follows  enables 
them  to  recombine  and  to  improve  upon  their  predecessors ;  and  in 
this  Sir  Joshua  was  quite  as  clever  as  Gainsborough.  The  real 
difference  between  the  painters  was  one  of  temperament.  Their 
material,  subjects,  training,  and  social  milieu  were  substantially  the 
same ;  it  was  the  personal  equation  that  made  the  variation  in  what 
was  produced. 

Gainsborough,  like  Reynolds,  was  a  country  boy,  having  been 
born  at  Sudbury  in  1727.  The  father  was  a  merchant  dealing  in 
cloths,  and  the  mother,  we  are  told,  had  the  womanly  accomplish- 
ment of  flower-painting.     These  two  facts  are  usually  recited  in 

51 


52  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

Gainsborough  biographies,  presumably  to  suggest  that  the  boy 
"took  after"  his  mother  rather  than  after  his  father;  but  when  and 
how  his  pictorial  inclination  made  itself  manifest  are  not  known. 
There  are  stories  told  of  his  boyish  wanderings  in  Suffolk  wood- 
lands, his  fondness  for  nature,  his  marvelous  sketches  of  landscapes, 
and  his  portrait  of  a  man  stealing  apples;  but  the  stories  have  the 
infant-prodigy  smack  about  them,  and  the  sketches  cannot  to-day 
be  positively  identified.  It  appears  that  at  fifteen  he  had  converted 
his  family  to  a  belief  in  his  genius,  and  he  was  sent  off  to  London 
to  study  painting.  Here  he  was  fortunate  in  making  the  acquain- 
tance of  Gravelot,  the  French  illustrator  and  engraver,  whose  pupil 
he  became ;  and  for  one  year  of  his  life  he  was  under  a  master  who 
at  least  knew  drawing. 

And  Gravelot's  influence  upon  the  pupil  must  have  been  more 
important  than  we  are  usually  given  to  understand.  Any  one  who 
studies  Gainsborough's  figures  cannot  but  be  impressed  with  a 
jauntiness  of  air,  a  turn  of  head,  a  smallness  of  hands  and  feet,  a 
drawing  of  costume,  and  a  posing  of  figures,  that  strongly  suggest 
an  Englishman  following  Watteau.  Again,  one  is  struck  in  some 
of  Gainsborough's  landscapes  with  a  feathery,  tufty  foliage,  the 
outer  branches  often  being  edged  like  a  bird's  wing.  That  is  an- 
other reminder  of  Watteau.  It  has  been  explained  that  this  is 
characteristic  of  the  Rubens  landscape,  and  that  Gainsborough  got 
it  from  that  master ;  but  it  should  be  explained  further  that  he 
probably  got  it  from  Rubens  at  second  hand  through  Watteau,  who 
based  his  landscape  upon  that  of  the  great  Fleming.  All  through 
Gainsborough's  art  there  is  a  strain  that  is  more  French  than 
Dutch  or  Flemish,  more  like  Watteau  than  like  Lely  or  Van 
Dyck ;  and  this  strain  probably  came  to  him  through  Gravelot, 
who  inherited  some  of  the  Watteau  traditions. 

There  was  a  year  with  Gravelot,  and  then  Gainsborough  went 
to  the  St.  Martin's  Lane  Academy,  to  study  under  Hayman.  It 
is  said  that  he  remained  at  this  academy  three  years,  though 
what  he  could  have  learned  there  one  is  at  a  loss  to  conjecture. 
Hayman  was  neither  draftsman  nor  colorist ;  and  after  Gravelot,  his 
pupil  must  have  found  him  as  water  unto  wine.  But  there  is  small 
record  of  Gainsborough's  outside  movements  during  these  three 
years,  and  what  he  picked  up  in  instruction  no  one  knows.  Rey- 
nolds said  that  he  learned  much  by  studying  and  copying  Teniers, 
Rubens,  and  Van  Dyck ;    but  whether  this  was  done  as  a  man  or 


THE    SISTERS-MRS.    SHERIDAN    AND    MRS.   TICKELL,  BY 
THOMAS   GAINSBOROUGH. 


DULUICH    GALLERY. 


THOMAS     GAINSBOROUGH  53 

as  a  boy  we  are  not  informed.  As  for  his  pictures  of  this  period, 
it  is  impossible  to  identify  them  with  certainty,  if,  indeed,  there  are 
any  extant.1 

After  leaving  the  St.  Martin's  Lane  Academy,  he  seems  for  a 
few  months  to  have  set  up  a  studio  of  his  own  ;  but  evidently  suc- 
cess was  not  his,  for  at  nineteen  he  had  returned  to  Sudbury.  Here 
he  speedily  married  a  young  woman  named  Margaret  Burr,  who 
had  an  amiable  disposition  and  two  hundred  pounds  a  year. 
The  young  couple  moved  to  Ipswich,  where  Philip  Thicknesse  lent 
a  protecting  wing,  and  where  Gainsborough  executed  some  portraits 
for  which  he  received  moderate  sums,  some  country-life  pictures 
which  sold  for  next  to  nothing,  and  a  number  of  landscapes  which 
he  could  not  sell  at  all.  In  1 760  he  went  to  Bath,  where  he  soon 
had  a  handsome  patronage  at  fashionable  prices.  His  sitters 
spread  his  fame,  and  from  Bath  he  began  sending  pictures  to 
London  for  exhibition  at  the  Society  of  Artists.  He  sent  to  the 
Society  for  seven  years,  and  to  the  Royal  Academy  (of  which  he 
was  an  original  member)  from  1769  to  1772. 

Gainsborough  finally  outgrew  Bath;  and  in  1773  he  went  up  to 
town,  took  a  house  in  Pall  Mall,  and  passed  the  rest  of  his  life  there. 
The  king  sent  for  him  shortly  after  his  arrival,  and  with  royal  patron- 
age he  flourished,  and  became  the  formidable  rival  of  Sir  Joshua. 
Nobility  sat  to  him ;  the  town  knew  him ;  money  came  to  him 
freely ;  and,  all  told,  his  latter  days  were  filled  with  success.  He 
was  quite  content  with  London,  and,  aside  from  a  tour  to  the  Lake 
District  in  1 783,  he  never  wandered  from  home,  never  went  out  of 
England.  His  death  from  cancer,  superinduced  by  a  cold  caught 
while  attending  the  trial  of  Warren  Hastings,  occurred  August  2, 
1788.  He  was  buried  at  Kew,  and  Burke,  Sheridan,  Reynolds, 
and  other  celebrities  stood  by  the  grave,  bearing  witness  to  the 
qualities  of  the  man  and  the  genius  of  the  painter. 

There  is  little  in  Gainsborough's  life  that  seems  out  of  the 
normal.  His  career  was  perhaps  more  commonplace  in  its  lack  of 
incident  than  that  of  Reynolds  ;  for  he  mingled  less  with  the  world, 
and  was  hardly  a  social  character  at  all.  A  sensitive  man,  a  little 
shy,  and  prone  to  the  melancholy  view,  he  rather  shrank  from  the 
mob,  and  spent  almost  all  of  his  life  in  the  English  country.  His 
wife,  with  whom  he  lived  happily,  a  chum  of  a  musician,  for  he  had 

1  There  are  "a  pair  of  portraits  in  pencil"  in  the  National  Gallery  of  Ireland  which  Sir  Walter 
Armstrong,  the  director  of  the  gallery,  believes  to  be  genuine  Gainsborough  drawings. 


54  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

a  passion  for  music,  the  farm-house  people,  with  whom  he  always 
found  himself  at  home,  were  more  congenial  to  him  than  nobilities 
or  celebrities.  When  success  brought  him  to  London,  he  did  not 
join  "  The  Club  "  and  enter  the  society  of  the  period,  though  he 
occasionally  dined  with  Burke,  Sheridan,  Beaumont,  and  the  other 
gay  ones.  He  was  diffident  and  easily  embarrassed.  Reynolds 
called  upon  him,  but  he  never  returned  the  courtesy,  and  a  coolness 
sprang  up  between  the  two  painters  that  lasted  through  life. 
When  Gainsborough  was  on  his  death-bed  he  sent  for  Sir  Joshua, 
and  they  were  reconciled.  Very  touching  is  the  account  of  this 
scene  left  us  by  Sir  Joshua,  and  very  handsome  was  his  after- 
tribute  to  the  genius  of  Gainsborough. 

The  tribute  was  all  the  more  gracious  because  the  men  were 
rivals,  and  because  they  were  naturally  ill  fitted  to  comprehend 
each  other.  Sir  Joshua  had  a  philosophy  that  summed  up  the 
factors  of  life  and  art,  and  established  certain  principles ;  he  was  a 
character.  Gainsborough  had  a  sensitive  disposition,  responding 
ever  and  always  to  impulse ;  he  was  a  temperament.  Where  the 
one  man  was  open  to  conviction,  the  other  was  open  only  to  im- 
pression. Sir  Joshua  could  analyze,  theorize,  and  discourse,  prov- 
ing himself  in  the  right  by  reason  and  precedent ;  but  this  was  not 
his  rival's  method  of  attaining  truth.  Analysis  bothered  Gains- 
borough. Doubtless  he  had  his  theories,  but  he  never  talked  them 
at  the  Royal  Academy,  or  painted  them  in  any  recognizable  form. 
What  he  could  see  he  comprehended  acutely,  but  what  he  had  to 
reason  out  was  not  so  well  grasped.  Argument  meant  little  to 
him,  and  he  was  too  impatient  for  principles.  Things  were  ac- 
cepted as  they  appeared,  without  much  philosophizing  about  the 
whys  and  the  wherefores.  And  this  peculiar  quality  of  mind 
seemed  to  dictate  his  likes  and  dislikes.  Men  and  books  interested 
him  but  slightly ;  they  appealed  to  the  reflective  side  of  his  intelli- 
gence, and  found  little  response  ;  but  he  was  devoted  to  trees,  hills, 
skies,  animals,  handsome  women  and  children,  because  they  ap- 
pealed to  his  sense  of  form  and  color. 

Gainsborough's  pictures  make  up  his  only  autobiography,  and 
all  of  them  are  temperamental  rather  than  philosophical,  reflective 
of  moods  or  states  of  feeling  rather  than  intellectual  expositions  of 
abstract  fact.  An  individuality  full  of  delicate  feeling,  sensitive  to 
things  graceful  and  charming,  and  tinged  by  a  strain  of  romantic 
melancholy,  shows  in  the  majority  of  his  canvases.     On  the  surface 


THOMAS     GAINSBOROUGH  55 

his  art  is  frequently  vivacious,  sprightly,  dashing ;  but  underneath 
flows  almost  always  a  current  of  sadness  inherent  in  the  man.  How 
many  handsome  women  he  painted,  with  heads  tossed  coquettishly 
on  one  side,  with  lively  pose  of  figure,  and  soubrette  turn  of  hand 
and  foot !  They  all  smile,  but  there  is  something  behind  the  smile 
that  seems  to  mock  at  gaiety.  His  country  children  have  the  same 
strain  about  them.  They  are  pensive,  supersensitive,  grown  old 
in  youth.  They  stand  or  sit,  quietly  gazing  at  you ;  and  though 
they  are  healthy-looking  enough,  they  have  little  of  the  romp,  the 
play  of  animal  spirits,  the  thoughtlessness,  of  children.  Perhaps, 
as  has  been  suggested,  the  idea  of  children  in  landscape  came  to 
him  from  Dutch  art ;  but  how  radical  is  the  difference  in  spirit !  The 
Dutch  children  are  strong  of  body,  light  of  mind,  quite  uncon- 
scious ;  but  the  Gainsborough  children  have  known  grief,  and  their 
gaiety  has  been  nipped  by  an  early  frost. 

One  can  trace  this  feeling  in  Gainsborough's  portraits  of  men, 
and,  with  less  emphasis  perhaps,  in  his  landscapes.  Yet  look  at 
his  gray  clouds  which  are  always  drifting  across  the  sky,  his  deep- 
brown  trees,  wind-swept  fields,  dusky  woods.  How  somber  they 
are  !  The  model  for  these  landscapes  came  from  the  over-seas  art, 
and  their  color  was  perhaps  not  wholly  an  expression  of  Gains- 
borough's feeling ;  but  is  it  not  odd  that  he  should  have  chosen 
this  model  instead  of  the  bright  golden  sky  of  Italy,  as  painted  by 
Wilson  ?  Was  it  not  because  the  solemn  sadness  of  Ruysdael — 
one  of  the  first  masters  to  influence  him — appealed  to  his  tem- 
perament ? 

All  through  the  pictures  of  Gainsborough,  in  spite  of  the  Wat- 
teau-like  liveliness  of  them,  one  can  feel  this  chord  of  melancholy. 
The  commonest  faces  grew  romantic  under  it,  the  dullest  summer 
landscape  took  on  a  new  mystery  because  of  it.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  its  presence  harmed  more  than  it  helped  by  producing 
attenuation  of  character.  Gainsborough  often  trenched  upon  the 
outermost  confines  of  sentiment  by  over-refinement ;  and,  for  that 
matter,  he  led  all  the  old  English  painters  in  delicacy  of  feeling. 
There  was  never  anything  coarse,  rugged,  or  brutally  strong  about 
him.  The  themes  of  Hogarth  were  as  repulsive  to  him  as  to  Rey- 
nolds;  and  the  historic,  the  tragic,  were  beyond  him.  He  could 
never  produce  the  classic  or  the  dramatic.  His  whole  nature  was 
idyllic  rather  than  epic,  devoted  to  the  contemplative  rather  than 
the  active.     A  fair  lady  lost  in  thought  or  a  fair  landscape  grown 


56  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

hazy  under  gray  clouds  was  quite  to  his  mood.  And  to  refine  and 
poetize  such  a  theme,  to  receive  and  record  an  impression  about  it, 
was  his  delight.  Of  course  the  impression  was  tinctured  by  the 
painter's  individuality.  That  constitutes  its  great  charm.  A  poetic 
point  of  view  is  not  given  to  every  painter,  and  Gainsborough's 
view  lost  none  of  its  poetry  because  of  there  being  a  highly  sen- 
sitive, slightly  morbid  personality  behind  it. 

Gainsborough's  subjects  fall  easily  into  three  classes :  first, 
landscapes  with  rustic  figures ;  secondly,  rustic  figures  with  land- 
scapes;  and  thirdly,  portraits.  His  landscapes  attracted  but  little 
notice.  In  his  day  people  were  indifferent  to  skies,  trees,  meadows, 
and  hills ;  and  Wilson,  thirteen  years  his  senior,  had  starved  at 
painting  them.  When  Gainsborough  died,  most  of  the  streams 
and  woodlands  he  had  put  upon  canvas  were  found  in  his  house. 
They  had  never  sold,  and  their  creation  had  been  with  the  painter 
a  labor  of  love.  It  is  impossible  to  say  when  they  were  painted, 
for  he  seldom,  if  ever,  signed  or  dated  pictures.  Probably  his  first 
efforts  were  his  woodland  sketches  about  Sudbury,  and  probably, 
again,  his  first  lessons  in  art  came  from  studying  Dutch  pictures  in 
the  East-England  country.  Certainly  Gainsborough  tells  us  in  his 
pictures  that  he  knew  the  work  of  Ruysdael,  Wynants,  and  perhaps 
Hobbema.  The  wood  scene  in  the  National  Gallery,  showing 
Cornard  village,  sometimes  called  "  Gainsborough's  Forest,"  may 
be  rightly  enough  named  as  regards  the  locality  and  the  subject 
but  it  is  Ruysdael's  palette,  brush,  and  method.  The  trees,  with 
their  brown  under-basing  and  sage-green  overlaying,  the  thin  gray 
clouds,  the  unsubstantial  earth,  the  spotty  lights,  all  show  an 
English  paraphrase  of  the  Dutchman. 

If  this  picture  can  be  taken  as  an  example  of  early  work,  and 
the  "  Watering  Place,"  in  the  same  gallery,  as  an  example  of  late 
work,  then  it  may  be  said  that  Gainsborough  outgrew  the  Dutch, 
outgrew  Rubens  and  Watteau,  and  finally  produced  a  landscape 
that  was  quite  his  own.  The  "  Watering  Place,"  to  be  sure,  shows 
the  broom-like,  bird-wing  foliage  of  Watteau,  together  with  the 
brown  tree  and  the  bituminous  shadow  which  were  never  true  of 
English  or  any  other  watering-places ;  but  it  also  shows  a  broad 
sweep,  a  largeness  of  conception  and  treatment,  a  majestic  force  in 
earth,  tree,  cloud,  and  sky,  such  as  no  English  painter  had  ever 
produced  before  him.  Something  of  the  same  view  and  treatment 
is  shown  in  a  landscape  in  the  Diploma  Gallery  of  the  Royal 
Academy ;  and  there  is  a  landscape  with  dogs  and  a  fox,  belonging 


THOMAS     GAINSBOROUGH  57 

to  Lord  Rosebery,  that  is  impatient  and  sketchy,  but  full  of  vigor 
and  comprehensive  knowledge.  Gainsborough  did  not  always  see 
nature  so  largely  or  paint  its  appearance  so  powerfully.  He  was 
frequently  smooth,  thin,  and  somewhat  "sweet"  in  skies,  lights, 
and  trees.  This  was  apparently  his  early  manner,  when  he  was 
following  Ruysdael.  Later,  when  he  seemed  to  be  following  Wat- 
teau,  his  composition  was  less  formal,  the  brush  was  freer,  and  the 
coloring  much  deeper  and  warmer.  One  could  wish  that  in  all  his 
landscapes  there  were  less  of  slate-gray  and  old-mahogany  color- 
ing, but  he  came  at  a  period  when  landscape  art  was  an  arbitrary 
utterance,  and,  in  measure,  he  followed  tradition. 

In  all  his  landscapes  he  was  fond  of  putting  small  figures, 
horses,  carts,  cattle,  ponds,  broken  tree-trunks,  using  them  for 
spots  of  color  or  light.  When  these  small  objects  were  merely 
accessories  of  light  or  color  they  were  kept  subordinate  to  the 
landscape ;  but  when  they  were  enlarged  the  landscape  was  kept 
down,  and  the  objects  became  the  leading  features.  Thus  was 
made  up  Gainsborough's  second  class  of  pictures  —  rustic  figures 
with  landscape.  With  these  themes  he  was  often  hasty  and 
sketchy  in  his  foliage,  skies,  and  grounds,  feeling  undoubtedly 
that  the  interest  was  centered  in  the  figures,  and  should  be  main- 
tained there.  The  "  Cottage  Girl,"  the  "  Girl  with  Cat,"  the  "  Girl 
with  Pitcher,"  the  "  Girl  Feeding  Pigs,"  the  "  Dogs  Fighting,"  the 
"  Donkey  Race,"  are  illustrations  of  this  genre.  They  were  not 
highly  valued  in  the  painter's  time,  but  recently  it  has  been  discov- 
ered that  they  are  wonderful  studies  from  nature ;  that  while  Rey- 
nolds painted  the  aristocratic  child,  Gainsborough  did  the  farmer's 
child ;  and  that  the  latter  was  the  more  genuine,  because  coming 
more  directly  from  the  soil.  But  there  is  small  reason  in  the  argu- 
ment. Gainsborough's  children  have  more  florid  complexions  and 
less  elegant  garments  than  Sir  Joshua's,  but  they  are  as  much 
warped  by  the  painter's  subjective  nature  as  Sir  Joshua's  were  by 
his  regard  for  Correggio's  way  of  depicting  childhood.  His  real 
nature-studies  were  his  cottages,  carts,  and  particularly  his  animals. 
Cattle,  horses,  sheep  he  did  not  care  too  much  for,  painting  them 
largely  as  spots  of  color ;  but  a  dog,  a  fox,  or  a  donkey  he  epito- 
mized oftentimes  in  a  most  striking  manner.  The  doe  in  the 
"Perdita  Robinson  "  portrait  is  a  most  remarkable  piece  of  vitality, 
and  the  donkeys  in  the  "Donkeys  in  a  Storm"  at  Glasgow  have 
characterization  in  high  degree. 

But  after  all  praise  has  been  given  to  Gainsborough's  land- 


58  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

scapes, — and  they  are  worthy  of  praise, — the  fact  remains  that  his 
reputation  was  made,  and  still  hangs,  upon  his  portraits.  As  might 
be  surmised  from  his  disposition,  he  worked  better  with  women  and 
children  for  sitters  than  with  men.  The  painter's  sentiment  seemed 
to  carry  more  effectively  when  shown  in  the  face  of  a  "  Mrs.  Graham  " 
than  when  pictured  in  the  face  of  a  "  Dr.  Johnson  "  or  an  "  Admiral 
Vernon."  Some  trace  of  effeminacy  lingers  in  almost  all  of  his  men. 
His  "  Pitt"  will  not  compare  with  Hoppner's  for  sturdy  force;  the 
"  Parish  Clerk,"  in  the  National  Gallery,  is  prettified  ;  the  "Ad- 
miral Rodney  "  is  unsympathetic  and  perfunctory ;  and  only  one  of 
his  many  portraits  in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery  can  be  called 
satisfactory.  One  wonders  if  Gainsborough  ever  painted  a  man's 
portrait  that  possessed  the  force  of  Reynolds's  "  Lord  Heathfield." 
After  all,  Sir  Joshua  had  an  intellectual  stamina  which  he  instilled 
into  his  characters,  whereas  Gainsborough  had  merely  a  winning 
personality. 

But  this  very  shortcoming  in  his  men's  portraits  proved  an 
excellence  in  his  portraits  of  women.  The  "  Mrs.  Siddons,"  hang- 
ing near  the  "  Parish  Clerk,"  is  very  like  the  latter  work  in  con- 
ception and  treatment ;  but  in  the  former  the  delicacy  and  softness 
are  the  very  essence  of  the  tragic  queen  when  off  the  stage 
and  once  more  a  woman.  And  what  a  charm  there  is  about  the 
beautiful  "Mrs.  Graham"!  Not  proud  or  haughty  like  a  Van 
Dyck  duchess ;  yet  what  a  refined,  delicate  creature  she  is,  with 
that  girlish  throat  and  those  small,  taper  hands  and  feet !  Viva- 
cious and  spirited  in  pose,  she  is  nevertheless  constrained  to 
quietude,  dignified,  even  saddened,  by  that  Gainsborough  strain  of 
melancholy.  The  castle  wall,  the  deep  glen  at  the  left,  the  loneli- 
ness of  the  background,  add  to  the  romance  of  the  face,  until  one 
might  fancy  her,  for  all  her  jauntiness  of  air,  the  subject  of  some 
great  tragedy.  No  wonder  that  when  the  beautiful  lady  died,  her 
husband  could  not  bear  to  look  at  the  wistful,  tender  face,  and 
walled  up  the  picture  in  his  house,  where  it  was  forgotten,  and 
hung  in  darkness  for  fifty  years,  until  a  new  proprietor,  making 
alterations,  brought  it  once  more  to  light.  The  "  Mrs.  David  Kin- 
loch,"  the  "Lady  Eden,"  the  "Lady  Ennis,"  the  "Lady  Margaret 
Fordyce,"  the  "  Ladies  Erne  and  Dillon,"  the  "  Duchess  of  Cum- 
berland," the  "  Duchess  of  Devonshire,"  at  Althorp,  all  have  rather 
long  faces  and  pointed  chins,  and  they  all  wear  the  Mona-Lisa 
smile,  deepened  and  saddened  to  pathetic  loveliness.     Were  they 


THOMAS     GAINSIiOROUGH  59 

all  so  sad  in  reality,  or  did  they  only  appear  so  as  seen  through 
Gainsborough's  temperament?  The  Duchess  of  Devonshire  was 
painted  by  both  Reynolds  and  Gainsborough ;  but  how  differently 
each  saw  her !  To  Reynolds  she  was  gay,  and  somewhat  noisy 
in  the  bargain ;  but  to  Gainsborough  she  was  shy  and  lonely, 
leaning  romantically  against  a  column,  with  downcast  eyes,  and 
a  face  sicklied  over  with  pensiveness. 

Occasionally  he  painted  portraits  where  the  strain  is  less  ob- 
vious, as,  for  examples,  the  "  Perdita  Robinson"  and  the  "Mrs. 
Sheridan  and  Mrs.  Tickell "  at  Dulwich;  but  in  the  majority  of  his 
pictures,  whatever  the  subjects,  we  find  the  temperament  tincturing 
the  reality.  A  man  so  cabined,  cribbed,  confined  within  himself  as 
Gainsborough  could  not  be  objective.  He  drew  from  the  only 
source  at  his  disposal,  and  that  source  chiefly  himself.  He  painted 
many  "  whole-lengths "  of  noble-looking  ladies  standing  in  land- 
scape ;  and  whether  or  not  they  were  good  likenesses  cannot  now 
be  determined.  As  we  see  them  to-day,  they  are  at  least  beautiful 
pictures.  The  character  may  be  romanced,  but  the  tale  told  is  not 
the  less  poetic  ;  the  facts  may  be  juggled  with,  but  the  form  is  not 
less  graceful  nor  the  color  less  charming. 

Possessed  as  Gainsborough  was  of  the  true  artistic  tempera- 
ment, he  was  not  a  thoroughly  trained  craftsman  any  more  than 
his  contemporaries.  He  struggled  with  insufficient  knowledge  all 
his  life.  The  composition  of  a  group  always  worried  him,  but  he 
could  pose  a  single  figure,  and  arrange  the  accessories  very  clev- 
erly. He  knew  considerable  about  drawing,  but  not  enough  to  be 
a  complete  master  of  it.  It  is  often  apparent  in  his  pictures  that 
he  did  not  know  how  an  object  should  be  presented  by  line,  and 
that  he  sought,  by  diverting  the  attention  to  color  and  texture,  to 
give  the  appearance  of  reality  in  another  way.  He  did  this  effec- 
tively, for  he  was  more  of  a  painter  than  a  draftsman ;  and  if  he 
did  not  paint  in  patches,  like  Manet,  he  at  least  tried  to  reproduce 
the  exact  values  of  the  tones.  The  tone  as  a  substitute  for  line 
was  a  makeshift,  but  it  had  its  advantages,  not  unforeseen  by  the 
painter,  of  giving  elasticity  and  mobility  to  the  figure ;  and  it  is 
not  a  matter  of  regret  that  he  failed  to  inclose  his  figures  in  a  rim 
or  an  outline.  Better  by  far  a  rambling  "Musidora"by  Gains- 
borough than  an  impossible,  line-bound  "  Helen  "  by  David. 

His  handling  is  one  of  his  oddities,  and  is  certainly  original 
enough,  since  no  other  master  ever  handled  in  just  the  same  way. 


60  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

Rubens  wrote  with  the  brush  as  easily  and  as  smoothly  as  a  writing- 
master  with  the  pen  ;  Rembrandt  modeled  in  paint,  oftentimes  pro- 
ducing surfaces  in  relief;  Reynolds  kneaded  and  thumbed;  but 
Gainsborough  streaked,  scratched,  and  rubbed,  working  with  a 
long-handled  brush,  and  striving  to  gain  an  under-surface  effect. 
Close  to  view,  such  scratching  and  hatching  as  one  sees  in  the  hair 
of  the  "Mrs.  Siddons"  seems  quite  unnecessary;  but  at  the  proper 
distance  this  work  reveals  the  lightness  and  fluffiness  of  the  hair 
most  strikingly.  A  similar  effect  was  frequently  sought  for  in  his 
flesh-tones.  He  did  not  like  the  hard,  shining  surface,  though  he 
sometimes  painted  it;  and  in  his  faces  he  was  usually  striving  for  the 
depth  and  transparent  quality  of  the  flesh  rather  than  for  its  exter- 
nal appearance.  He  was  not  at  ease  with  the  full  brush,  though 
such  landscapes  as  the  "Watering  Place"  offer  a  contradiction  to 
the  statement.  His  touch  was  usually  smooth  and  swift  enough, 
but  thin  and  not  always  certain.  Where  Reynolds  hesitated, 
Gainsborough  was  perhaps  too  hasty,  painting  with  more  decision 
than  precision,  all  of  which  would  tell  us,  even  if  we  did  not  know 
it  from  contemporary  testimony,  that  he  was  an  impatient,  impulsive 
man,  working  by  fits  and  starts  with  much  energy,  and  putting  more 
of  the  artist's  mood  in  his  work  than  the  brushman's  skill. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  charm  of  Gainsborough's  painting  was  his 
color.  Mr.  Ruskin  has  said  he  was  "  the  greatest  colorist  since 
Rubens,"  which,  meaning  much  or  meaning  little,  is  too  general  a 
statement  to  be  illuminating.  Compared  with  his  contemporaries, 
he  was  individual  and  distinguished  in  his  color — a  painter  follow- 
ing his  own  idea  of  harmony  and  placing  little  reliance  upon  what 
others  had  taught  and  done  before  him,  save  in  the  landscape.  In 
fact,  so  independent  was  he  that  he  was  disposed  to  place  himself 
in  opposition  to  Reynolds  in  the  matter  of  pleasing  color  arrange- 
ments ;  and  instead  of  using  the  warm  academic  hues,  he  preferred 
the  cool  tints  of  gray,  yellow,  and  blue.  Much  has  been  made  of 
Reynolds's  dictum  about  the  inexpediency  of  cool  colors  in  the  body 
of  a  picture,  and  it  has  been  said  that  Gainsborough  painted  his 
Van  Dyck-like  "  Blue  Boy"  to  disprove  the  dictum.  Whether  the 
Reynolds  rule  was  applied  to  the  picture,  or  the  picture  to  the  rule, 
the  "  Blue  Boy  "  comes  nearer  proving  Reynolds  in  the  right  than 
Gainsborough.  The  picture  is  not  a  blue  picture  in  the  sense  of 
possessing  a  blue  enveloppe.  It  is  simply  a  mass  of  dark  blue  placed 
in  a  warm  brown  setting,  and  is  about  as  disappointing  in  color  as 


PORTRAIT   OF    MRS.    SIDDONS,    BY    THOMAS    GAINSBOROUGH. 

NATIONAL  GALLERY,    LONDON. 


THOMAS     GAINSBOROUGH  6l 

anything  Gainsborough  ever  painted.  The  blues  in  the  "Parish 
Clerk"  and  the  "  Mrs.  Siddons  "  are  perhaps  more  pleasing,  though 
neither  picture  gains  by  their  use.  The  large  Dulwich  picture  is 
much  better ;  and  very  fine  in  coloring  are  such  portraits  as  the 
"  Elder  Daughter  of  George  III  "  at  Kensington,  the  "  Duchess  of 
Cumberland  "  at  Windsor,  and,  again,  the  "Mrs.  Graham  "  at  Edin- 
burgh. Cream  whites,  dull  reds  and  pinks,  saffron  yellows,  silver 
grays — pale,  cool  notes — he  could  arrange  in  most  charming  com- 
binations. Here  he  relied  almost  entirely  upon  his  sensitive  eye, 
and  the  result  was  a  harmony  quite  his  own.  Van  Dyck  and  Rey- 
nolds may  have  taught  him  something  about  aristocracy  of  pose 
and  bearing,  but  they  taught  him  nothing  about  color.  It  was 
Gainsborough's  most  original  quality,  and  was  most  appropriate,  in 
fact  quite  complementary,  to  that  shade  of  melancholy  which  domi- 
nated his  finest  work.  His  soft  tones  seem  to  harmonize  with  the 
pathos  of  sad  faces,  where  lively  or  severe  coloring  would  have 
been  out  of  place  and  disturbing. 

Again  we  come  back  to  a  primary  statement  that  Gainsborough 
was  a  temperament  instead  of  a  rule,  a  person  of  feeling  rather 
than  an  erudite  craftsman.  In  art,  temperament  is  perhaps  above 
character,  as  more  spontaneous  :  but  temperament  in  the  ascendancy 
usually  means  limitation,  and  Gainsborough  was  not  a  versatile 
man.  True,  he  did  many  subjects — and  so  did  Corot,  the  French- 
man ;  but  the  peculiar  sentiment  of  the  painter  is  apparent  in  almost 
every  one  of  them.  Nor  would  we  have  it  otherwise.  One  touch 
of  true  feeling  is  worth  a  whole  gallery  of  academic  elegance. 
Reynolds,  who  was  somewhat  different  from  Gainsborough  in  this 
respect,  seemed  to  appreciate  in  his  contemporary  what  he  himself 
could  lay  less  claim  to ;  and  it  was  perhaps  not  presidential  conde- 
scension or  funereal  eulogy  that  led  him  to  say  of  the  dead  painter: 
"  If  ever  this  nation  should  produce  genius  sufficient  to  acquire  to 
us  the  honorable  distinction  of  an  English  school,  the  name  of 
Gainsborough  will  be  transmitted  to  posterity,  in  the  history  of  the 
art,  among  the  very  first  of  that  rising  name." 


62 


OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 


THE  HON.  MRS.  GRAHAM,  the 
daughter  of  Lord  Cathcart,  born  in 
1757,  was  married  in  1774,  at  the  age  of 
seventeen,  to  Thomas  Graham  of  Bal- 
gowan,  and  died  in  1791,  after  seventeen 
years  of  married  happiness.  Her  hus- 
band, who  loved  her  passionately,  after- 
ward sought  distraction  from  his  grief 
by  engaging  in  the  army,  and,  greatly  dis- 
tinguishing himself  in  the  Peninsular 
Wars,  rose  to  the  peerage,  becoming 
Lord  Lynedoch,  and  died  at  the  age  of 
ninety-five  years,  never  having  married 
again.  He  left  the  lovely  portrait  of  his 
young  wife  immured  in  his  house,  as  he 
had  caused  it  to  be  more  than  fifty  years 
before,  and  it  was  discovered  only  when 
some  alterations  were  being  carried  out 
for  another  proprietor.  The  picture  (see 
frontispiece)  was  painted  in  1775-76,  on 
the  couple's  return  from  their  wedding 
tour  on  the  Continent. 

Think  of  this  beautiful  work  of  art,  of 
ineffable  sweetness  and  delicacy,  being 
walled  up  for  more  than  half  a  century, 
neglected,  and  finally — "  out  of  sight,  out 
of  mind  " —  completely  forgotten  !  aban- 
doned to  the  deteriorating  influence  of 
darkness,  damp,  and  dust,  and  to  the 
spiders  and  other  vermin  to  befoul  with 
cobwebs  and  dirt!  I  look  at  it  with 
amazement  and  thankfulness  that  it  has 
escaped  irreparable  injury,  and  been 
handed  down  to  us  in,  one  might  almost 
say,  all  its  pristine  freshness  and  richness. 
I  wonder  at  the  preservation  of  the  flesh- 
tints,  with  their  pure,  pearly  shades  modu- 
lating so  tenderly  into  warm  and  pinkish 
flushes  in  the  broad  planes  of  light  that 
seem  to  palpitate  with  subtile  undula- 
tions; and  the  rosy  lips,  with  all  that 
breadth  and  fullness  of  modeling  about 
the  features  that  fill  you  with  rapture  as 


you  gaze !  I  wonder,  above  all,  that  its 
proprietor  should  have  had  the  temerity 
to  bury  so  live  a  thing ! 

The  distinction  and  refinement  of  this 
work  are  recognized  at  a  glance,  surrounded 
as  it  is,  in  its  place  in  the  National  Gal- 
lery at  Edinburgh,  by  its  hale  and  red- 
faced  neighbors.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  describe  its  fine  scheme  of  coloring, 
balanced  so  delicately  between  warm  and 
cool  tones.  It  is  evening.  The  wooded 
landscape  of  the  valley  below,  rich  and 
deep,  lustrous  and  cool,  and  revealing 
upon  close  inspection  greenish,  bluish,  and 
russet  tinges,  is  penetrated  with  a  hushed 
mystery  and  repose ;  its  gloom  is  pro- 
found and  impressive.  Above,  the  sky 
is  heavy  with  a  ponderous  blue-gray  cloud 
which  breaks  toward  the  horizon,  where 
are  touches  of  golden  light  behind  the 
trees.  The  lady  leans  slightly  against 
the  base  of  a  couple  of  fluted  columns 
of  a  warm  dense  gray  tone.  How  gently 
the  light  steals  upward  and  along  the 
foremost  one,  and  brightens  and  dies 
away !  The  figure  is  clad  in  a  bodice  of 
silver-gray  satin,  with  an  edging  of  peaked 
lace  enframing  the  bosom.  The  polo- 
naise is  of  the  same  satin,  but  the  under- 
skirt is  a  crimson-rose  in  color.  In  the 
hand  is  a  grayish-white  ostrich-plume. 
The  hat  is  silver-gray  adorned  with  the 
same-colored  feathers,  and  the  hair  is 
very  much  of  the  tone  of  the  hat,  being 
powdered  gray.  Note  the  prevalence  of 
cool  tones.  But  how  happily  and  with 
what  art  all  these  are  offset  by  the  distri- 
bution of  the  warm  tones  of  the  high 
lights  which  mount  up  with  telling  force 
in  the  radiance  of  the  face  and  bosom ! 
He  demonstrates  the  truth  of  Sir  Joshua's 
dictum  that  "  the  masses  of  light  in  a  pic- 
ture  should   be  always  of  a  warm  and 


THOMAS    GAINSHOROUGH 


63 


mellow  color,  and  the  cold  colors  used 
only  to  support  and  set  off  these  warm 
colors."  But  he  gives  it  a  new  interpre- 
tation by  the  charm  of  the  prevailing 
sheet  of  soft,  silvery  atmosphere  that 
binds  all  and  imparts  to  the  ensemble  a 
soothing,  restful  quality,  so  that  you  feel 
the  truth  of  what  has  been  said  of  Gains- 
borough, that  "no  artist  was  ever  at  once 
more  new,  more  natural,  and  more  Eng- 
lish." The  handling  in  this  magnificent 
example  of  Gainsborough's  genius  is  so 
full,  so  large  —  embracing  so  much  and 
suggesting  still  more  —  that  to  go  into  a 
description  of  its  details  would  be  analo- 
gous somewhat  to  endeavoring  to  hum 
overasymphony,whichis  a  subtlyblended 
tissue  of  sound  only  possible  to  catch  in  a 
few  tag-ends  of  tunes  hanging  out  there- 
from ;  yet  it  swims  in  the  mind,  and  you 
can  think  it,  but  are  tantalized  by  your  im- 
potency  to  give  it  utterance.  It  is  interest- 
ing to  note  a  detail,  such  as  the  feathers 
of  the  hat,  for  instance,  that  soften  with 
bluish  and  pearly  touches  so  deftly  from 
the  force  of  the  warm  high  light  into  the 
atmospheric  coolness  of  the  sky.  If  you 
look  into  it,  you  see  it  handled  with  great 
dexterity  and  vigor ;  each  touch  charac- 
teristic of  some  large  form;  no  mean 
anxiety  about  details,  but  subordination 
to  the  face  being  the  rule,  as  throughout 
the  whole.  Nothing  finer  or  more  fluent 
in  treatment  could  be  imagined  than  the 
arm,  which  is  veiled  by  a  flouncing  of 
lace,  the  same  in  tone  as  the  silver-gray 
polonaise,  showing  the  warm  color  of  the 
flesh  through  it.  And  note  as  well  the 
texture  of  the  crisp  folds  of  the  satin,  and 
the  plaiting  of  the  wine-colored  skirt. 
The  brushing  here  is  most  spirited,  and 
designed  to  offset  the  smoothness  of  the 
flesh,  where  the  surface  is  exquisite  and 
the  tints  blended  and  caressed  with 
unsurpassed  delicacy  and  finesse.  It  is 
smoothly  painted  in  general,  and  with  a 
moderately  full  impasto. 

The  canvas  measures  seven  feet  nine 


inches  high  by  five  feet  wide,  and  the 
figure  is  life-sized.  The  morning  is  the 
best  time  for  seeing  it,  for  the  reason  that, 
as  it  is  covered  with  glass,  there  are  then 
fewer  reflections  from  the  pictures  of  the 
opposite  wall. 

The  double  portrait  of  "  Mrs.  Sheridan 
and  Mrs.  Tickell "  is  at  the  Dulwich  Gal- 
lery, and  forms  one  of  the  most  important 
if  not  the  chief  attraction  there.  It  does 
not  equal  for  purity  and  coolness  of  tint 
the  wonderful  "  Mrs.  Graham  "  at  Edin- 
burgh, though  perhaps  it  would  be  juster 
to  say  it  is  in  another  vein  of  thought. 
It  is  emphatically  another  key;  and  to 
be  charmed  with  one  more  than  with  the 
other  may  be  a  matter  of  taste.  Rarely, 
if  ever,  does  the  true  artist  get  his  art 
down  to  a  system  whereby  he  can,  if  he 
choose,  repeat  a  certain  color-scheme;  for 
often  he  never  knows  how  he  arrived  at 
certain  effects.  In  this  picture  of  the  two 
ladies  the  ensemble  is  decidedly  warm. 
The  dress  of  Mrs.  Tickell,  who  is  seated 
on  the  bank  with  the  music-sheet  on  her 
lap,  is  a  pleasing  shade  of  ocher,  while 
that  of  her  sister  is  blue ;  but  the  blue  is 
so  warm  as  to  make  it  doubtful  whether 
it  be  not  green,  so  balanced  is  it  between 
the  two  colors,  and  its  high  lights  ap- 
proach in  tone  those  of  the  other  dress ; 
while  many  of  the  shades  in  the  ocher 
dress  have  cool  passages  that  make  these 
two  bits  of  drapery  marry  delightfully. 
Then  the  wooded  background,  of  a  rich, 
deep  tone,  becoming  lighter  and  more 
greenish  as  the  foliage  blends  into  the 
mellow  gray  sky,  makes  a  simple  and  ef- 
fective setting  for  this  charming  bit  of 
color.     The  figures  are  the  size  of  life. 

This  lovely  couple,  who  were  devot- 
edly attached  to  each  other,  were  famous 
vocalists  in  their  generation,  and  were 
daughters  of  Thomas  Linley,  a  musician  of 
Bath,  their  native  place,  where,  as  well  as 
in  London,  in  Gainsborough's  day,  they 
contributed  to  the  refinement  and  eleva- 
tion of  the  times,  taking  leading  parts  in 


64 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


the  popular  concerts  and  oratorios.  There 
is  a  tradition  that  the  music  resting  upon 
the  lap  of  Mrs.  Tickell  is  the  score  and 
words  of  a  song  of  spring  written  by  her 
husband,  the  music  by  her  father,  Mr. 
Linley,  which  was  once  celebrated  by 
the  wonderful  singing  of  the  two  sisters. 
Mrs.  Sheridan,  the  one  looking  off  pen- 
sively, is  acknowledged  to  have  been  a 
model  of  personal  beauty,  and  was  the 
original  of  Sir  Joshua's  "St.  Cecilia."  It 
is  said  that  no  woman  of  her  time  pos- 
sessed in  larger  measure  beauty,  talent, 
and  virtue.  Before  her  marriage  she 
was  surrounded  with  lovers,  among  them 
a  certain  miserly  Wiltshire  squire,  who 
would  have  married  her,  but  she  refused 
him;  and  he  not  only  resigned  himself 
to  his  disappointment,  but  assumed  the 
responsibility  of  breaking  off  the  match, 
and  settled  three  thousand  pounds  on 
her  as  an  indemnity  for  the  breach  of 
covenant.  It  is  not  said  that  she  refused 
the  miser's  money.  She  was  the  more 
famous  of  the  two  sisters. 

Gainsborough,  who  was  an  enthusiast 
in  music,  evidently  had  here  a  subject 
after  his  own  heart.  It  is  easy  to  imagine 
that  the  central  idea  he  had  in  view  was 
to  show  "  the  mind  and  music  breathing 
from  the  face."  That  lovely  creature, 
Mrs.  Tickell,  looking  out  of  the  picture 
straight  at  you  with  dark  eyes  and  an  in- 
telligent fervor  of  countenance  and  mien, 
her  body  erect  and  full  of  spirit — she 
seems  all  mind!  The  other,  gently  re- 
clining against  the  bank,  lost  in  sweet 
reveries,  her  arms  resting  on  the  long- 
necked  guitar,  her  head  averted  looking 
off  afar,  as  though  musing  upon  heavenly 
themes  and  melodies  —  does  she  not  seem 
wrapped  in  the  spirit  of  music  ? 

Sir  Joshua  Reyrjplds,  in  pronouncing 
upon  the  merits  of  Gainsborough's  works, 
says:  "  It  is  difficult  to  determine  whether 
his  portraits  were  most  admirable  for 
exact  truth  of  resemblance,  or  his  land- 
scapes for  portrait-like  representation  of 


nature."  Neither  of  which  statements, 
though  doubtless  intended  as  marked 
praise,  is  complimentary  in  the  highest 
sense  to  the  genius  of  his  great  contem- 
porary; rather  would  this  judgment  lower 
our  creative  artist  to  the  level  of  the  com- 
monplace topographer;  for  surely  the 
natural  features  in  a  great  work  of  art, 
whether  of  portraiture  or  landscape,  are 
the  least  accounted  merits  in  the  category 
of  its  excellences.  It  was  not  the  mere 
"  portrait-like  representation  of  nature  " 
that  was  the  summit  of  Gainsborough's 
achievement  in  landscape;  that,  indeed, 
was  but  the  elemental  part  of  his  art  — 
the  pulsation  of  the  stretched  string,  as  it 
were,  that  gives  the  pleasure  of  sweet 
sound  before  yet  the  musician  has  en- 
hanced this  pleasure  by  concords  and 
combinations  —  the  basis  on  which  his 
poetic  spirit  sought  to  rear  a  higher  de- 
light. For  Gainsborough  was  a  poet. 
Isolated  somewhat  from  his  contempo- 
raries, like  "  a  moody  child  and  wildly 
wise,"  he  wandered  alone  the  fields  and 
woods,  communing  with  nature,  and  to 
his  loving  eye  nature  enhanced  her 
beauty.  Beauty  was  his  aspiration  and 
pursuit ;  and  it  was  not  so  much  nature 
as  the  expression  of  nature  that  he  valued 
and  endeavored  to  record.  Much  that 
he  had  to  say  in  his  landscapes  was  con- 
ventional, and  given,  of  course,  in  the 
language  of  his  time ;  but  finally,  in  his 
canvas  of  the  "Watering  Place,"  he  comes 
out  with  something  original,  which  seems 
like  a  happy  hit,  so  pronounced  does  this 
landscape  stand  forth  from  the  bulk  of 
what  he  chose  to  term  his  "  labors  of 
love."  In  this  he  conveys  a  larger  sense 
by  simpler  means.  He  masses  his  trees 
in  a  grander  manner ;  drops  the  prosiness 
of  small  forms  and  indications  of  leaves, 
and  aims  at  their  spirit  and  splendor;  is 
less  elaborate,  but  at  the  same  time  fuller 
and  more  fluent;  and  is  concerned  less 
with  what  is  than  what  seems  to  be,  as 
in  the  deep  shade  of  the  middle  distance 


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THOMAS     GAINSBOROUGH 


65 


which  envelops  moving  forms — a  boy 
beside  a  horse,  and  some  cows.  Here 
the  gleam  of  light  upon  the  foreground 
cattle,  and  the  bright  light  of  the  sunset 
in  the  sky  above  the  hills,  render  them 
well-nigh  indistinct.  The  light  enters 
the  artist's  eyes  and  causes  these  forms 
to  swim  in  mystery.  It  is  in  the  sky, 
however,  that  he  takes  a  leap  forward 
and  anticipates  Constable.  Nothing 
surely  could  be  finer  for  atmospheric 
depth,  looseness,  and  freedom.  The  pur- 
ple clouds  float  in  the  apple-green  and 
yellow  azure,  and  all  is  bathed  in  the 
cool  evening  air.  This  painting  was  de- 
clared at  the  time  to  be  "  by  far  the  finest 
landscape  ever  painted  in  England,  and 
equal  to  the  great  masters " ;  but  it  is 
greater  than  the  great  masters,  because 
the  problems  in  it  are  such  as  had  not 
been  arrived  at  before  Gainsborough's 
time.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  artist 
must  have  used  a  dark  mirror  in  studying 
his  effect,  the  shadows  are  so  broad  and 
simple.  The  gloom  is  impressive,  and 
the  robust  trees  are  fine  in  sentiment; 
their  gnarled  trunks  and  branches  are 
suggestive  of  weird  shapes.  It  is  a  place 
for  fairies,  and  we  can  imagine  the  group 
of  children  to  the  left  telling  fairy-tales. 
The  dimensions  of  the  canvas  are  four 
feet  ten  inches  high  by  five  feet  eleven 
inches  wide.     It  is  under  glass. 

Gainsborough  declared  he  painted  por- 
traits only  for  money,  but  landscapes  from 
love,  while  he  was  a  musician  because  he 
could  n't  help  it.  But  if  in  the  first  in- 
stance love  was  not  the  impelling  force, 
then  possibly  the  competitive  spirit  in 
him,  or  necessity,  or  a  high  sense  of  duty 
to  his  sitter,  forced  him  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  greater  deeds  in  his  won- 
derful faces  than  in  his  landscapes  —  faces 
that  hold  us  with  a  fascination  more 
charming  than  even  those  of  Raphael, 
and  which  proclaim  their  author  as  be- 
longing to  those  gifted  few  who  fulfil  the 
poet's  requirement : 


He  must  be  musical,  tremulous,  impressional, 
Alive  to  gentle  influence  of  landscape  and  of 

sky, 
And  tender  to  the  spirit-touch  of  man's  and 

maiden's  eye. 

There  is  more  in  Gainsborough's  por- 
traits than  that  "  most  admirable  "  quality 
of  "  exact  truth  of  resemblance  "  so  much 
praised  by  Sir  Joshua.  There  is  an  ani- 
mated breath-of-life  air,  a  pathos  and 
emotional  feeling,  and  a  poetic  charm  — 
the  "spirit-touch,"  in  short  —  by  which 
they  live  in  the  memory,  unfading,  like 
the  faces  of  those  we  cherish  most.  He 
did  not  do  these  things  for  money  merely. 
Surely  no  !  That  was  only  one  of  his  im- 
pulsive utterances,  or  designed  probably 
to  accentuate  how  he  felt  about  landscape. 

The  incident  recorded  of  his  failure 
with  the  portrait  of  the  Duchess  of  Dev- 
onshire might  serve  to  demonstrate  how 
free  Gainsborough  was  from  anything  of 
a  sordid  money-getting  nature ;  for  while 
painting  the  mouth,  and  in  despair  of 
being  able  to  do  justice  to  the  beauty  of 
the  original,  he  obliterated  what  he  had 
done  with  a  stroke  of  his  brush,  saying : 
"  Her  Grace  is  too  hard  for  me !  "  The 
picture  is  said  to  have  been  afterward 
destroyed,  though  all  who  saw  it  thought 
it  exquisitely  lovely.  How  different  this 
is  from  the  policy  of  the  worldly  artist, 
who,  contrary  to  admitting  that  anything 
in  this  world  is  too  hard,  is  forever  boast- 
ing of  his  abilities ! 

Gainsborough  had  difficulties  also  with 
the  portrait  of  Mrs.  Siddons,  for  it  seems 
the  tip  of  her  nose  baffled  his  draftsman- 
ship, and  he  is  said,  while  painting  it, 
to  have  exclaimed  impatiently  :  "  Damn 
the  nose,  there  's  no  end  to  it !  "  She 
was  twenty-nine  years  old  when  this  was 
painted,  and  it  is  one  of  Gainsborough's 
late  portraits,  being  completed  in  1784, 
four  years  before  his  death.  Reynolds 
painted  her,  the  year  previous,  as  the 
"  Tragic  Muse."  The  figure  is  life-sized, 
and  the  canvas  measures  four  feet  one 


66 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


and  a  half  inches  high  by  three  feet  three 
inches  wide.  The  coloring  is  dominated 
by  the  strong  note  of  blue  in  the  sash 
that  goes  about  the  shoulders  and  the 
waist,  and  falls  down  the  side  in  ribbons 
somewhat  strident  in  color.  The  dress 
also  is  a  shade  of  blue,  but  softer  and 
more  agreeable  in  tone,  being  striped 
with  blue  lines  upon  a  pearly  ground. 
The  shawl  is  buff-colored,  and  passes 
about  the  arm  behind,  reappearing  be- 
neath the  further  hand  and  below  the 
muff,  which  is  brown.  The  curtain  of 
the  background  is  a  deep  red,  softened 
with  umber  tones  as  it  recedes  into  the 
deeper  shades  and  becomes  dark  and 
cool.     The  hat  is  rich  and  very  finely 


treated  in  its  breadth  and  tender  quality 
of  black,  and  enhances  the  pearly  and 
rosy  tones  of  the  flesh,  giving  it  freshness 
and  brilliancy;  and  this,  again,  in  the 
quality  of  its  texture,  gains  still  more  in 
value  and  interest  by  the  treatment  given 
to  the  powdered  hair.  The  thin  white 
tulle  over  the  bosom,  revealing  the  tone 
of  the  flesh  beneath,  softens  the  approach 
of  the  blue  of  the  sash,  and  performs  an 
important  and,  in  fact,  indispensable  office 
in  this  respect.  The  narrow  black  velvet 
band  about  the  throat  accentuates  the 
transparency  of  the  shadows  in  the  depth 
of  the  hair.  The  face  is  very  smoothly 
and  delicately  painted,  charming  in  its 
refinement  and  sweetness.  T.  C. 


RICHARD   WILSON 


CHAPTER   IV 

RICHARD    WILSON 

(1713-1782) 

UNFORTUNATELY  for  the  landscape-painter  in  eighteenth- 
century  England,  the  people  of  the  time  neither  knew  nor 
cared  very  much  about  out-of-doors  nature.  Gibbon  said 
he  visited  the  country  to  see  his  friends,  not  the  trees;  and  John- 
son thought  a  man  tired  of  London  was  tired  of  life.  The  poets 
of  the  time — Pope,  Cowper,  Thomson,  Goldsmith  —  considered 
landscape  a  very  good  stage  property  in  literature,  and  had  a 
warmed-over  Homeric  affection  for  it,  but  they  possessed  very 
little  first-hand  knowledge  of  it.  They  talked  of  "  mournful  skies  " 
and  "  cruel  seas"  and  "  frowning  mountain  heights"  just  as  though 
nature  were  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  fits  of  human  emotion. 
But  it  sounded  well  in  the  march  of  poetic  numbers,  and  that  is  all 
the  poets  cared  about  it.  In  painting  the  interest  in  landscape  was 
almost  nothing.  The  connoisseurs  talked  about  Claude  with 
affected  enthusiasm,  but  they  would  not  look  at  Gainsborough's 
woodlands ;  and  Richard  Wilson,  the  first  landscape-painter  in 
England,  exhibited  his  pictures  year  after  year,  and  yet  lived  and 
died  neglected. 

On  the  Continent  the  taste  was  not  very  different.  There  was 
a  dinner-plate  and  fire-screen  landscape  extant,  which  served  the 
purpose  of  boudoir  decoration  ;  and  of  course  there  was  admiration 
for  Claude  and  Poussin,  for  they  were  popularly  supposed  to  have 
bettered  nature  itself.  Italy  was  still  the  great  academy  of  the  arts, 
and  all  the  painters  of  Europe  who  could  afford  it  flocked  there  to 
study  art  at  its  source.  Wilson,  like  the  rest,  was  smitten  with  the 
Roman  fever,  and  he  too  went  off  to  Italy,  leaving  behind  him  one 
of  the  most  picturesque  countries  in  the  world,  to  learn  at  Rome 

69 


yo  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

the    art   of  painting    an    abstraction    called    the    ideal    or   classic 
landscape. 

Originally  Wilson  had  come  from  Montgomeryshire,  where  he 
was  born  August  i,  1713.  His  father  was  a  clergyman,  and,  it  is 
said,  gave  his  son  a  very  good  classical  education.  A  relative,  Sir 
George  Wynne,  discovered  in  the  boy  an  inclination  toward  paint- 
ing, and  brought  him  up  to  London  to  study  under  a  portrait- 
painter  named  Thomas  Wright.  He  remained  with  Wright  six 
years,  learning  the  ancient  art  of  "  face-painting,"  and  apparently 
to  some  purpose.  His  portraits  are  now  scattered  or  lost,  but 
those  that  remain  to  us,  like  the  likeness  of  himself  with  the  white 
cloth  about  the  head,  and  the  portrait  of  Mortimer,  both  in  the 
Diploma  Gallery  of  the  Royal  Academy,  are  not  without  much 
artistic  merit.  At  thirty-six  Wilson  started  for  Rome.  In  Venice 
he  met  Zuccarelli,  who  was  then  enjoying  great  popularity  as  a 
painter  of  sugar-coated  landscapes.  The  great  man  advised  the 
little  man  to  stop  "face-painting"  and  to  take  up  landscape. 
Vernet,  the  French  landscapist,  whom  Wilson  met  in  Rome,  advised 
him  in  the  same  strain.  The  advice  was  accepted,  and  Wilson  soon 
became  famous.  For  six  years  he  remained  in  Italy,  painting  the 
Italian  view,  and  receiving  much  applause  from  his  fellow-artists. 
In  1755  he  returned  to  England.  He  was  favorably  received,  for 
his  fame  had  preceded  him,  and  at  first  he  was  moderately  success- 
ful. His  "  Niobe,"  painted  for  the  Duke  of  Cumberland  and 
exhibited  in  1 760,  gave  him  rank ;  but  he  found  out  soon  enough 
that  pictures  of  landscape  were  not  in  demand,  and,  notwithstand- 
ing he  was  an  original  member  of  the  Royal  Academy,  his  canvases 
would  not  sell.  It  is  said  that  his  personality  was  against  him  — 
that  he  had  not  courtesy  or  consideration,  and  made  enemies 
where  he  should  have  made  friends.  Sir  Joshua  and  his  following 
did  not  love  him,  and  perhaps  said  disparaging  things  about  him. 
Possibly  all  this  was  true  enough,  and  yet  Turner,  whose  social 
failings  were  much  greater  than  Wilson's,  had  no  trouble  in  selling 
his  pictures.  The  truth  is  that  in  Wilson's  day  the  subject  he 
chose  was  against  him. 

Again  it  is  alleged  that  Gainsborough's  landscape  pushed  the 
work  of  the  older  painter  out  of  the  market,  but  it  is  a  well- 
known  fact  that  the  Gainsborough  landscape  sold  no  better  than 
the  Wilson.  Neither  of  them  was  valued  or  understood.  Gains- 
borough could  afford  to  paint  his  landscapes  for  pleasure,  since  he 


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RICHARD    WILSON  7 1 

was  deriving  a  handsome  profit  from  portraits ;  but  poor  Wilson, 
relying  upon  landscape  alone,  soon  began  to  feel  the  pinch  of  pov- 
erty. Year  by  year  his  living  kept  slipping  away  from  him.  As 
he  sank  lower  and  became  poorer  he  seemed  to  shrink  away  from 
his  fellows  like  some  wounded  animal.  At  last  he  crept  into  a 
small  place  on  Tottenham  Court  Road,  where  he  lived  no  one 
knows  exactly  how.  It  is  said  that  he  hawked  his  pictures  among 
dealers  and  pawnbrokers  for  a  few  shillings.  In  his  later  years 
all  that  kept  him  from  starvation  was  a  pittance  that  he  received  as 
librarian  of  the  Royal  Academy.  When  nearly  gone  from  age  and 
want,  a  small  estate  came  to  him  by  the  death  of  a  brother.  He 
went  out  to  the  Welsh  country  to  live,  and  there,  amid  landscape 
and  flowers,  though  too  old  to  work,  he  seemed  content.  But  this 
lasted  for  only  about  a  year.  In  May,  1782,  death  released  him 
from  "  the  apathy  of  cognoscenti,  the  envy  of  rivals,  and  the  neg- 
lect of  a  tasteless  public,"  to  quote  Fuseli. 

As  frequently  happens  in  art  history,  Wilson's  death  drew 
attention  to  his  art,  and  the  "  tasteless  public  "  began  to  dig  up  his 
memory  and  put  it  upon  a  pedestal  for  worship.  In  18 14  some 
seventy  of  his  canvases  were  exhibited  at  the  British  Institution, 
and  people  began  talking  about  "  the  giant  Wilson,"  "  the  great 
master,"  and  "  the  English  Claude."  His  friend  Peter  Pindar  had 
predicted  as  much  forty  years  before : 

But,  honest  Wilson,  never  mind ; 
Immortal  praises  thou  shalt  find, 

And  for  a  dinner  have  no  cause  to  fear. 
Thou  start'st  at  my  prophetic  rhymes; 
Don't  be  impatient  for  those  times : 

Wait  till  thou  hast  been  dead  a  hundred  year. 

These  be  sorry  rhymes,  and  their  only  virtue  is  that  they  speak 
a  truth.  To-day  Wilson's  landscapes,  though  they  do  not  meet 
with  the  "immortal  praises"  which  were  predicted  for  them,  are 
nevertheless  much  sought  after,  and  the  painter  himself  is  ranked 
as  the  founder  of  landscape-painting  in  England. 

Yet  it  was  not  precisely  English  landscape  that  Wilson  painted. 
To  be  sure,  he  portrayed  the  mountains  of  Wales,  and  some  of  the 
rivers  of  England,  with  the  subjects  directly  before  him ;  and  he 
painted  Niagara,  and  the  Acropolis  at  Athens,  without  ever  seeing 
either  of  them.     But  all  his  pictures  had  the  golden  sky  and  the 


72  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

silver  light  of  Italy,  and  all  of  them  were  fashioned  after  the 
classic  manner  of  Claude.  Wilson  had  learned  his  lesson  in  Rome, 
and  he  never  entirely  forgot  it.  No  matter  what  his  theme,  his 
method  did  not  vary  materially.  And  yet  the  result  was  no  mere 
imitation.  He  translated  Claude — that  is,  he  Englished  him  ;  just 
as  a  century  before  Ruysdael  had  translated  Salvator  Rosa  into 
idiomatic,  even  classic,  Dutch.  The  translator  was  conspicuously 
present  in  both  cases.  There  was  a  mingling  of  personality  and 
tradition.  The  teaching  of  Italy  did  not  change  Wilson's  northern 
blood,  nor  did  it  make  Corot  less  of  a  Frenchman  ;  but  it  gave  an 
outer  dress  to  the  art  of  both  men.  Wilson  spoke  always  with  the 
voice  of  Jacob,  for  that  he  could  not  change ;  but  the  southern 
mother  of  the  arts  had  given  him  the  hands  of  Esau. 

His  landscape  is  easily  described,  for  the  point  of  view,  the 
composition,  and  the  general  treatment  vary  but  slightly.  It 
usually  consisted  of  an  outlook  through  a  framed  foreground  of 
trees  upon  placid  waters,  dusky  groves,  classic  ruins,  and  crum- 
bling monuments.  In  the  foreground  there  were  small  figures 
under  stately  trees  and  beside  broken  columns ;  in  the  background 
there  were  distant  hills,  a  yellow  sky,  and  a  glow  of  twilight  glory. 
In  sentiment  it  was  reminiscent  of  the  deathless  past,  and  had  a 
tinge  of  sadness  about  it.  Not  only  the  trees  and  groves  harked 
back  to  Arcadia,  but  the  broken  fragments  of  Roman  temple  and 
Tivolian  villa,  bleaching  in  the  sun,  tenantless  save  to  the  cranny- 
ing  wind,  their  very  ruins  perishing  from  the  face  of  the  earth, 
were  all  eloquent  of  classic  heroes  and  their  deeds.  It  was  a  note 
of  sentiment  to  conjure  with,  but  it  had  been  sounded  before.  The 
subject  and  the  sentiment  were  picture  materials  that  Wilson  had 
gathered  up  at  Rome. 

Then,  too,  the  dark  arabesque  of  trees  in  the  foreground,  the 
sunny  middle  distance,  the  bright  sky  at  the  back,  were  less  of  a 
novelty  than  a  variation.  Wilson  did  not  show  his  originality  in 
these  features  so  much  as  in  his  distribution  of  ligrht  and  air,  and  in 
his  body  of  color.  He  had  seen  and  studied  light  for  himself;  and 
while  it  always  had  a  silvery  glow  to  him,  it  had  also  breadth,  uni- 
versal diffusion,  penetration.  At  times  its  brilliancy  was  forced  by 
the  dark-shadowed  foreground,  but  its  reality  was  not  lessened 
thereby.  Just  so  with  his  atmosphere.  It  was  permeating,  envelop- 
ing both  near  and  far,  not  scumbled  about  the  distant  hills  and  wholly 
absent  in  the  foreground,  as  one  sees  in  only  too  many  Claudes.    In 


RICHARD    WILSON  73 

color  he  cultivated  something  of  the  conventional  mahogany  in 
his  trees  and  rocks ;  but  he  harmonized  it  very  cleverly  with  his 
golden  skies  and  reflecting  waters.  He  handled  it  with  a  regard 
for  its  unity,  and,  moreover,  made  something  charming  out  of  it  as 
sentiment. 

There  were  other  features  in  which  Wilson  was  a  nature-stu- 
dent, irrespective  of  what  Rome  taught,  as  one  may  discover  by 
studying  his  trees,  clouds,  waterfalls,  flying  mist,  and  river-banks ; 
but  his  distinctive  originality  lay  in  his  light,  air,  and  color.  One 
sees  these  qualities  better,  perhaps,  in  his  less  pretentious  canvases, 
such  as  the  small  "  On  the  River  Wye,"  his  Welsh  mountain  scenes, 
and  the  little  pictures  now  hanging  in  the  Foundling  Asylum  in 
London.  There  is  in  the  Glasgow  gallery  a  "  Convent — Twilight " 
by  Wilson  that  is  really  startling  in  its  beauty  of  color  and  light. 
It  is  wholly  unlike  his  usual  subjects,  and  suggests  what  unencour- 
aged  possibilities  the  painter  had  within  him. 

His  classic  compositions,  such  as  the  "  Niobe"  and  the  "Cicero's 
Villa,"  seem  to  have  less  spontaneity  about  them.  They  were  the 
only  kinds  of  landscapes  standing  a  ghost  of  a  chance  of  selling  in 
his  day,  and  they  sometimes  have  an  air  of  being  tortured  into 
grandeur  for  exhibition  purposes.  Still,  even  in  his  most  conven- 
tional pictures  Wilson  is  usually  interesting.  It  was  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  he  could  abandon  every  tradition,  strike  off  for  himself, 
and  produce  something  entirely  new.  Even  Gainsborough  did  not 
do  that.  The  talk  about  painters  "  going  to  nature  "  and  leaving 
all  the  art  of  the  past  behind  them  is  often  very  misleading.  As  well 
expect  the  poets  to  abandon  rhythmic  numbers  and  forget  the 
"Iliad"  and  "Faust."  About  all  that  either  of  them  can  do  is  to 
improve  upon  an  established  formula.  This  Wilson  did.  The  first 
one  to  paint  landscape  in  England,  he  was  accounted  the  best  of 
his  time,  and  that  is  perhaps  the  most  that  can  be  said  for  any 
painter. 


I 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

T  was  said,  concerning  the  pecuniary  a  commission,  inquired  of  the  painter 
hard  lot  of  Wilson,  that  as  Kneller,  Barry,  his  friend,  if  he  knew  "  any  one 
the  portrait-painter,  found  dead  men  in-  mad  enough  to  employ  a  landscape- 
different  paymasters,  so  inanimate  nature  painter."  Painting  "  landskips  "  in  those 
proved  but  a  cold  patroness  to  Wilson.  days  was  about  the  next  worse  business 
He  at  one  time,  in  despair  of  obtaining  to  writing  poetry  or  star-gazing,  so  far  as 


74 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


a  livelihood  went.  Wilson  was  one  of 
the  pioneers  who  opened  up  the  way  to 
the  present-day  appreciation  of  the  ab- 
stract beauties  of  nature.  He  was  a  por- 
trait-painter until  he  was  thirty-five  years 
old,  and  might  have  returned  at  any  time 
to  that  lucrative  calling;  but  his  love  of 
landscape  was  too  strong,  and  he  preferred 
to  come  down  to  one  small  bare  room, 
one  table,  a  chair,  an  easel  and  one  brush 
(he  used  but  one,  however,  in  painting), 
and  a  hard  bed,  with  a  few  clothes,  rather 
than  paint  portraits  in  comparative  luxury. 
In  other  words,  he  chose  to  dwell  in 
happiness  with  the  kind  of  art  he  loved, 
though  at  the  sacrifice  of  creature  com- 
forts —  if,  indeed,  he  felt  he  was  sacrificing 
anything  in  that  direction ;  and  though 
it  is  customary  to  commiserate  his  ex- 
treme poverty,  and  to  conclude  there- 
from that  he  dragged  along,  on  the  whole, 
a  miserable  sort  of  existence,  I  rather 
imagine  it  was  otherwise  with  our  lover 
of  nature,  and  that  he  doubtless  realized 
the  truth  expressed  so  beautifully  by 
Wordsworth  in  his  poem  written  on  the 
banks  of  the  river  Wye,  that 

Nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her;   't  is  her  privilege 
Through  all  the  years  of  this  our  life  to  lead 
From  joy  to  joy. 

His  whole  heart  was  in  his  art,  and  he 
talked  and  dreamed  landscape,  and  loved 
to  sit  of  a  fine  evening  enjoying  the  glow- 
ing sunset  from  his  humble  window, 
wrapped,  doubtless,  in  the  "joy  of  elevated 
thoughts."  He  must  have  passed  many 
a  serene  and  happy  hour  with  the  mis- 
tress of  his  choice,  and  this  is  evidenced 
in  the  feeling  of  tranquillity  that  reigns  in 
his  landscapes  and  which  is  their  key- 
note. How  calm  and  peaceful  is  the 
canvas  of  "  Cicero's  Villa  " !  It  is  like 
prayer.  And  this  is,  I  fancy,  the  senti- 
ment intended  here.  The  singularly  still 
attitude  of  the  woman  with  the  child  at 
her  knee  makes  me  think  she  is  teaching 


the  little  one  its  evening  devotions,  for 
she  appears  to  be  placing  its  hands  rever- 
entially together.  But  I  notice  that  the 
artist  is  careful  to  subdue  this  figure  to  a 
just  value  with  relation  to  the  sky.  It  is 
lower  in  tone  than  the  tower,  as  it  natu- 
rally would  be,  for  this  latter,  rising 
higher,  catches  more  of  the  light  of  the 
sky.  It  is  necessary  that  this  figure  be 
unaccentuated,  as  otherwise  it  would 
prove  a  harsh  note,  coming  as  it  does  in 
the  middle  of  the  lower  line  of  the  pic- 
ture. A  modern  artist  would  place  it 
differently,  or,  what  is  more  likely,  abolish 
it  altogether ;  but  ideas  were  different  in 
Wilson's  time.  The  very  spirit  of  repose 
broods  over  all.  Note  how  everything 
lends  itself  to  the  idea.  The  sun  has  just 
set,  and  the  solemn  coloring  of  night  is 
enshrouding  the  landscape ;  the  sheeny 
lake  mirrors  in  its  unruffled  bosom  the 
silhouetted  forms  of  the  cattle  and  the 
mountain-side ;  and  the  ruin  —  a  fa- 
vorite object  with  Wilson  —  contributes 
powerfully  by  its  suggestiveness  to  the 
prevailing  quietude,  for  from  within  its 
precincts  all  sound  has  long  departed. 
But  it  was  in  the  sky  that  the  painter 
seemed  to  delight  particularly,  and  here 
it  is  palpitating  with  faint  undulations  of 
vapor  that  form  here  and  there  into 
scarcely  visible  clouds,  vague  and  fleet- 
ing and  so  very  far  away,  and  the  whole 
mellowed  and  steeped  in  the  golden  light 
of  the  sun  —  the  whole  of  the  picture 
bathed  in  this  golden  tone. 

Quite  another  thing  is  the  little  canvas 
in  the  National  Gallery,  ten  by  twelve 
inches,  entitled  "  On  the  River  Wye." 
Here  it  is  nature  pure  and  simple  that 
entrances  the  artist,  as  much  as  it  did  the 
poet  Wordsworth  years  afterward  when 
he  wrote  his  famous  lines  on  its  banks, 
beginning : 

Five  years  have  passed. 

The  artist,  from  his  lonely  room  in  Tot- 
tenham Court  Road,  'mid  the  din  of  the 


c 


:  — 

a  2 

-  — 

5*  J, 


RICHARD    WILSON 


75 


city,  might  well  have  exclaimed  with  the 
poet: 

When  the  fretful  stir 
Unprofitable,  and  the  fever  of  the  world, 
Have  hung  upon  the  beatings  of  my  heart, 
How  oft,  in  spirit,  have  I  turned  to  thee, 
O  sylvan  Wye ! 

There  is  a  dewy  freshness  and  vernal 
aspect  —  a  luster  of  pure  atmosphere  — 
in  this  little  picture  that  is  very  attractive. 
You  feel  in  it  a  remoteness  from  all  con- 
tagion of  city  air.  And  underlying  this, 
and  contributing  doubtless  to  the  effect, 
is  its  piquancy  of  treatment,  its  lightness 
and  spontaneity  of  touch  —  a  quality  of 
technique  that  places  it  in  advance  of  his 


earlier  Italian  pictures.  There  is  some- 
thing so  very  charming  about  the  sky 
with  its  little  fleecy  clouds  drifting  along. 
The  sky  is  a  very  tender,  warm  blue  in 
color,  becoming  mellower  toward  the 
hills,  which  are  atmospheric  in  their  flu- 
ent tones  of  blue-gray,  amber,  and  green 
connecting  the  landscape  with  the  quiet 
of  the  sky.  Then  come  broad  patches 
of  sunshine  on  the  hill  and  ground  of  the 
middle  distance,  while  the  foreground  is 
shaded  by  some  tall  cliff  to  the  left,  but 
out  of  the  picture,  which  gives  a  rich 
carpet  of  varied  tint,  greenish,  and  inter- 
woven with  brighter  and  cooler  tones  of 
the  same,  forming  a  lovely  quality  of 
color.  T.  C. 


GEORGE    ROMNEY 


CHAPTER   V 

GEORGE    ROMNEY 

(1734-1802) 

ROMNEY  has  always  cut  a  rather  romantic  figure  in  English 
art,  because  of  his  lively  spirit,  his  wayward  imagination,  his 
mingled  strength  and  weakness,  his  promise  of  things  never 
fulfilled.  Of  all  the  English  painters  he  was  the  most  mercurial  in 
temperament,  the  most  swayed  by  personal  feeling.  Restraint  was 
not  a  word  in  his  vocabulary.  He  had  an  impetuous  way  of 
throwing  principles  to  the  dogs  which  seems  to  have  been  placed 
to  his  credit  as  artistic  righteousness,  and  an  impatience  of  effort 
that  his  admirers  have  naively  accepted  as  proof  of  peculiar  genius. 
As  for  laws,  he  made  them  unto  himself  as  the  wind  blew,  and 
changed  them  again  as  the  wind  blew ;  and  the  only  certain  thing 
about  him  was  his  uncertainty.  A  Euphorion  fancy  carried  him 
along  whither  it  would.  Sometimes  its  drift  was  right,  some- 
times it  was  wrong ;  but,  right  or  wrong,  Romney  was  always 
being  blown  from  one  extreme  to  another.  There  was  no  such 
thing  as  repose  in  his  life,  and  no  man  counted  him  happy  till  he 
was  dead.  The  contrast  with  his  two  great  contemporaries  seems 
to  emphasize  his  fickleness :  for  Sir  Joshua  was  a  character  with  a 
philosophy,  and  Gainsborough  was  a  temperament  under  control ; 
but  Romney  was  largely  an  impulse. 

He  came  out  of  the  north  of  England,  having  been  born  at 
Dalton,  in  Lancashire,  December  15,  1734.  His  father  was  a  car- 
penter and  cabinet-maker,  and  naturally  wished  his  son,  who  was 
gifted  with  considerable  mechanical  skill,  to  follow  in  his  footsteps. 
But  the  son  was  bitten  with  a  fondness  for  music  and  the  arts.  It 
is  said  that  the  woodcuts  in  an  old  magazine  and  Leonardo's 
"  Treatise  on  Painting  "  were  the  influences  that  first  turned  him 

79 


80  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

toward  painting.  However  that  may  be,  the  boy  would  be  a 
painter,  and  a  local  portrait-painter  at  Kendal  by  the  name  of 
Steele,  wanting  an  apprentice  just  at  this  time,  took  Romney  into 
his  studio.  The  apprenticeship  was  never  completed.  After  a 
year  or  so  Steele  ran  off  to  Gretna  Green  with  an  heiress,  and 
later  went  to  Ireland.  Romney,  who  was  always  a  bundle  of 
nerves,  had  been  a  participant  in  the  escapade,  and  was  so  over- 
wrought by  it  that  he  fell  sick  of  a  fever.  In  the  studio  deserted 
by  his  master  there  seemed  no  one  about  to  care  for  him,  except  a 
young  girl  named  Mary  Abbott.  She  succeeded  in  nursing  him 
back  to  life,  whereupon  Romney,  in  an  impetuous  burst  of  love  or 
gratitude,  married  her. 

He  now  began  portrait-painting  on  his  own  account  among 
the  country  people.  What  he  had  learned  from  Steele  no  one 
knows,  but  possibly  his  local  constituency  was  not  too  exacting. 
It  is  said  that  his  first  production  to  attract  attention  was  not  a 
portrait,  but  a  hand  holding  a  letter,  which  he  painted  for  the  post- 
office  window  at  Kendal.  It  remained  there  for  many  years  after 
Romney  left  the  town,  and  was  no  doubt  looked  upon  by  the  coun- 
try folk  as  something  wonderfully  fine.  Shaksperian  compositions 
were  also  in  the  mind  of  the  painter  at  this  time,  and  doubtless 
what  leisure  he  could  beguile  from  portraiture  he  devoted  to  them. 
He  was  ambitious  from  the  start,  but  with  what  artistic  success  we 
know  not.  Financially  he  seems  to  have  fared  tolerably  well.  At 
twenty-seven  he  held  an  auction  sale  of  his  pictures  and  cleared 
something  like  a  hundred  pounds.  With  this  money  in  his  pocket, 
he  set  out  for  London.  Of  course  the  wife  and  two  children  were 
left  behind  in  the  country,  and  it  was  many  a  long  year  before  they 
saw  Romney  again. 

In  London  the  painter  attracted  attention  to  himself  almost  at 
once.  The  year  after  his  arrival  he  won  the  second  prize  of  the 
Society  of  Arts  for  a  picture  called  "  The  Death  of  Wolfe  " ;  but 
he  never  received  more  than  a  present  of  twenty-five  guineas  in 
lieu  of  it.  Romney  thought  that  Reynolds  had  sided  against  him 
and  in  favor  of  a  painter  named  Mortimer,  and  this  was  the  first 
cause  of  ill  feeling  between  the  two  men.  Subsequently  Romney 
became  a  member  of  the  Incorporated  Society  of  Artists,  was  ad- 
mitted to  study  in  their  schools,  and  exhibited  with  them  and  also 
at  the  Free  Society ;  but  he  never  sent  anything  to  the  Royal 
Academy,  of  which  Sir  Joshua  was  president,  and  never  became  a 


PORTRAIT   OF    MRS.    DAVIES,    BY    GEORGE    ROMNEY. 

COLLECTION    Ob'    EDGAR    SPEYER.    ESQ.,    LONDON. 


GEORGE    ROMNEY  8l 

member  of  it.  He  was  just  as  impetuous  and  headlong  in  his 
judgments  of  men  as  in  his  art,  and  he  never  succeeded  in  cultivat- 
ing a  friendship  for  Reynolds.  No  one  knows  the  right  or  wrong 
of  the  misunderstanding.  Perhaps  the  president  was  not  too  gen- 
erous in  his  treatment  of  the  young  painter,  for  he  and  Gains- 
borough also  had  a  lifelong  agreement  to  disagree ;  and  yet  there 
are  many  records  of  Sir  Joshua's  cordial  treatment  of  other  young 
painters. 

Romney  was  successful  in  London,  but  not  at  all  satisfied  with 
painting  portraits  at  five  guineas  a  head.  He  longed  for  foreign 
travel,  and  in  1 764  he  went  to  France.  Vernet  and  others  received 
him  handsomely,  and  no  doubt  he  profited  much  by  the  sight  of  for- 
eign pictures.  The  work  of  Rubens  in  the  Palace  of  the  Luxem- 
bourg is  said  to  have  attracted  him,  and  certainly  he  took  no  small 
interest  in  the  sentiment  and  subject  of  Greuze.  When  he  came  back 
to  London  it  was  with  something  of  the  air  of  one  who  had  been 
abroad  and  seen  the  sights.  He  took  a  house  in  Great  Newport 
Street  under  the  very  nose  of  Sir  Joshua,  and  soon  gained  fame. 
He  scored  a  success  with  a  portrait  group  of  the  family  of  Sir 
George  Warren,  and  found  himself  suddenly  become  in  the  fashion. 
A  group  of  admirers,  led  by  Thurlow,  gathered  about  him  and 
placed  him  in  opposition  to  Reynolds.  He  was  now  worth  twelve 
hundred  or  more  a  year,  but  was  by  no  means  satisfied.  He 
thought  to  gain  more  renown  by  making  a  journey  to  Italy. 

In  1773,  in  the  company  of  a  miniature-painter  named  Hum- 
phrey, he  started  for  Rome  —  a  letter  to  the  Pope  from  the  Duke 
of  Richmond  in  one  pocket  and  a  diary  of  travel  in  the  other. 
The  diary  has  some  slight  interest,  because  Romney  traveled 
through  France  in  the  years  preceding  the  Revolution,  though  of 
course  he  was  no  such  observer  of  social  conditions  as  Arthur 
Young.  He  traveled  down  the  Rhone  to  the  Mediterranean,  where 
he  took  ship  for  Genoa,  and  eventually  reached  Rome  by  way  of 
Florence.  When  he  arrived  at  his  destination  he  went  into  seclu- 
sion, shunned  his  English  compatriots,  especially  the  friends  of 
Reynolds,  and  gave  himself  up  to  study.  But  Rome  was  hardly 
the  place  for  one  of  Romney's  make-up,  and  notwithstanding  he 
copied  the  great  masters,  as  recommended  by  Reynolds  in  his 
Academy  discourses,  he  seems  to  have  got  less  from  their  art 
than  from  the  study  of  the  living  model  and  the  Italian  life  about 
him.     The  principal  copy  that  he  made  while  in  Rome  was  after 


82  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

v 

Raphael's  "  Transfiguration,"  and  this  was  subsequently  sold  at 
auction  for  six  guineas. 

Under  Roman  inspiration  he,  of  course,  started  a  large  classical 
canvas.  It  was  the  regulation  thing  for  the  visiting  artist  to  do  in 
those  days,  as  at  the  present  time.  Romney's  performance  was  a 
"  Providence  Brooding  over  Chaos,"  which  suggests  Michelangelo. 
The  picture  was  afterward  sold  under  the  name  of  "  Jupiter  Piu- 
vius,"  which  seems  to  intimate  that  the  Biblical  quality  of  the  work 
was  not  even  skin-deep.  Romney  had  no  real  affinity  with  Rome 
or  Michelangelo  or  Biblical  characters ;  he  was  nearer  in  spirit  to 
the  fair  women  painted  by  Giorgione,  Titian,  and  Paolo  Veronese : 
and  when  he  reached  Venice  he  declared  the  art  of  the  Venetians 
far  above  that  of  the  Florentines.  It  was  more  sensuous  than  the 
Florentine  art,  and  Romney,  for  that  very  reason,  was  enabled  to 
comprehend  it  more  completely.  No  doubt  he  learned  from 
Titian's  canvases  something  about  color,  and  no  doubt  he  admired 
Correggio  at  Parma  to  some  purpose,  since  he  was  certainly  in 
artistic  touch  with  the  grace  and  gaiety  of  Parmese  painting ;  but 
after  all  the  possible  influences  are  taken  into  account,  the  fact 
remains  that  the  most  the  painter  got  out  of  Italy  was  the  reputa- 
tion of  having  studied  there  for  two  years. 

Romney  had  to  borrow  money  to  get  back  to  London,  but  he 
immediately  took  a  house  in  Cavendish  Square,  where  fortune  and 
many  sitters  smiled  upon  him.  He  was  soon  making  four  thou- 
sand a  year,  and  was  accounted  the  formidable  rival  of  Reynolds. 
Of  course  Sir  Joshua  would  not  admit  it,  but  his  way  of  referring 
to  Romney  as  "the  man  in  Cavendish  Square"  showed  that  he 
felt  it.  For  twenty  years  Romney  was  successful ;  but  the  wife  and 
children  he  had  left  up  in  the  north  were  no  sharers  of  his  good 
fortune.  He  did  not  go  near  them.  There  was  another  woman 
who  shared  at  least  some  of  his  attention,  and  was  responsible  for 
some  of  his  pictorial  popularity.  This  person  was  none  other 
than  Emma  Lyon,  afterward  Lady  Hamilton,  whom  he  met  in 
1782,  and  who  posed  as  a  model  for  some  twenty-three  of  his 
pictures.  She  appears  under  various  names, —  "Hebe," "Calypso," 
"Sibyl,"  "Mary  Magdalene," — but  the  fair  face  and  figure  are 
easily  recognizable.  He  was  devoted  to  the  "  divine  lady,"  as 
he  used  to  call  her,  and  quite  heartsick  when  she  left  London  for 
Naples  with  Sir  William  Hamilton  ;  but  whether  he  was  her  lover 
or  not  cannot  now  be  determined.     It  is  improbable  that  he  was, 


LADY    DERBY,    BY    GEORGE    ROMNEY. 

COLLECTION    OK    SIR    CHARLES    TENNANT,    LONDON. 


/ 


GEORGE    ROMNEY  83 

for  when  Romney  met  her,  and  all  the  time  he  knew  her,  she 
was  deeply  in  love  with  Charles  Greville.  Her  contented  life 
with  Greville,  and  her  pathetic  letters  of  protest  when  she  was 
so  coolly  transferred  to  Sir  William  Hamilton,  prove  this  fact 
conclusively ;  and  it  is  not  likely  that  she  was  at  that  time  enter- 
taining a  second  lover  in  Romney.  She  was  a  type  of  beauty 
that  appealed  to  Romney  as  a  painter,  and  the  relationship  between 
them  was  probably  that  of  friends.  When  she  went  away  he  con- 
tinued his  portraits  and  his  attempts  at  historical  canvases,  growing 
perhaps  a  trifle  more  erratic  as  he  aged,  but  still  holding  his  own 
against  competitors. 

In  1790  he  made  a  second  trip  to  Paris,  where  he  became  one 
of  the  English  ambassador's  party,  saw  famous  pictures,  and  met 
famous  painters  like  David  and  Greuze.  He  was  impressed  by 
the  great  classicist,  and  he  had  long  been  an  admirer  of  the  great 
sentimentalist.  But  Paris  could  not  hold  him  for  long.  He  came 
back  to  London  with  the  ambition  of  building  a  large  house  at 
Hampstead  and  fitting  it  up  with  casts  from  the  antique.  He 
thought  that  the  casts  might  help  him  as  models  in  working  upon 
historical  pictures.  The  house  was  built,  Flaxman  in  Rome  got 
the  casts  for  it,  and  in  1797  Romney  left  Cavendish  Square.  He 
was  no  sooner  in  his  new  house  than  he  fell  into  a  despondent,  de- 
jected mood.  His  overstrung  nerves  lost  their  elasticity,  and  he 
began  to  fail  in  mind  as  well  as  in  spirits.  As  for  his  hand,  that, 
too,  lost  its  cunning,  and  he  did  little  more  at  Hampstead  than  fret 
over  his  countless  unfinished,  never-to-be-finished  canvases.  Cut 
off  from  his  friends,  dreary  in  spite  of  his  fame,  and  feeling  that 
his  vital  forces  were  deserting  him,  he  looked  about  like  a  helpless 
child  for  some  one  to  save  him  from  destruction.  It  was  then  that 
he  began  to  think  of  his  wife,  whom  he  had  not  seen  for  thirty 
years.  In  1799,  when  he  had  become  half  mad  and  quite  feeble, 
he  went  back  to  her,  apparently  without  notice  of  any  kind ;  and 
she,  good  soul,  received  him,  nursed  him,  took  care  of  him  until  he 
died  in  1802.  A  moralist  might  think,  and  perhaps  not  unjustly, 
that  this  quiet,  simple  forgiveness  on  her  part  was  worth  all  the 
pictures  Romney  ever  painted.  Edward  Fitzgerald  said  as  much, 
in  his  "Letters,"  and  with  considerable  positiveness  in  the  statement. 
Yet  Romney,  irresponsible  creature  that  he  was,  probably  never 
thought  himself  guilty  of  any  wrong-doing.  Nature  had  not  en- 
dowed him  with  much  moral  stamina.     He  was  largely  an  impulse. 


84  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

It  was  Romney's  misfortune  to  be  born  with  a  susceptible  and 
excitable  disposition  in  which  reflection  and  philosophy  were  not 
factors.  Always  headlong  in  action,  he  did  a  thing  first,  and  per- 
haps thought  about  it  afterward.  His  marriage,  the  desertion  of 
his  wife,  the  return  to  her,  were  unpremeditated  acts.  He  took  up 
a  picture,  and  threw  it  down,  in  just  the  same  way.  He  was  ever 
eager  to  begin  a  new  composition,  ever  loath  to  finish  an  old  one. 
A  fine  frenzy  soon  burned  itself  out,  and  the  subject  of  it  no  longer 
interested  him.  All  his  life  he  struggled  for  expression  in  art ;  and 
yet  the  struggle  was  not  so  much  persistent  endeavor  as  a  series  of 
quick,  impetuous  dashes,  from  which  the  painter  generally  came  off 
baffled.  Brilliant  enthusiast  and  passionate  lover,  a  man  with  some- 
thing to  say,  he  wasted  energy  in  misdirected  effort,  and  groaned  in 
spirit  because  he  accomplished  so  little.  In  one  of  smaller  gifts  such 
results  would  meet  with  less  regret ;  but  in  Romney's  case  it  was 
most  unfortunate,  for  he  was  endowed  with  the  artistic  sense  in  an 
uncommon  degree.  His  eye  was  very  sensitive  to  impression  ;  his 
spirit  was  buoyant,  spontaneous,  predisposed  to  poetic  rhapsody ; 
his  sentiment  refined,  delicate,  freighted  with  charming  conceits. 
To  be  sure,  most  of  his  acute  perception  and  his  emotional  sym- 
pathy went  out  to  the  surface  of  things.  The  significance  of  an 
object,  or  of  nature  as  a  whole,  was  something  that  he  did  not  in- 
quire into  too  deeply.  It  was  not  the  meaning  of  a  face,  but  its 
look,  that  caught  his  fancy.  All  the  Lady  Hamilton  pictures,  and 
most  of  his  allegorical  portraits,  have  no  ulterior  meaning  beyond 
form  and  color.  He  was  not  born  with  a  profound  mind  to  corre- 
late facts  and  epitomize  in  paint  the  great  world  truths.  Yet,  with 
that  fatuity  of  genius  which  so  often  leads  the  mind  to  mistake  its 
weakness  for  its  strength,  Romney  was  forever  straining  up  ima- 
ginary flights,  seeking  to  ascend  the  brightest  heaven  of  invention, 
striving  after  the  sublime  in  historical  painting.  Needless  to  say, 
he  was  continually  falling  back  in  disorder.  He  was  an  observer, 
not  a  thinker.  But  experience  never  seemed  to  teach  him  that 
truth.     He  remained  an  impulsive  aspiration  to  the  last. 

Such  education  as  Romney  possessed  must  have  been  picked 
up  at  haphazard.  Things  that  interested  him  he  worked  out  in  his 
own  way,  for  he  was  a  very  bright  student  while  the  interest 
lasted ;  but  it  is  not  possible  to  imagine  him  pursuing  any  regular 
course  of  study,  or  enduring  much  of  the  drudgery  of  art.  From 
Steele,  his  first  master,  and  from  the  London  schools,  he  must  have 


THE    PARSON'S    DAUGHTER,    BY    GEORGE    ROMNEY. 

NATIONAL  GALLERY,    LONDON 


GEORGE    ROMNEY  85 

learned  something.  In  France  there  was  only  one  contemporary 
painter  who  seemed  to  interest  him,  and  that  one  was  Greuze. 
The  shy  young  girl  with  arched  head  and  sidelong  glance  appealed 
to  Romney  as  to  Greuze,  and  the  two  men  were  in  perfect  sym- 
pathy as  regards  their  views  of  art.  Indeed,  if  we  can  believe  the 
tale  of  the  "Parson's  Daughter"  and  the  Lady  Hamilton  heads, 
Romney's  sympathy  was  so  perfect  that  he  accepted  something  of 
Greuze's  type  and  manner  without  hesitation  or  compunction.  As 
for  his  browsings  among  the  old  Italian  masters,  he  understood 
little,  gained  little,  as  compared  with  Reynolds.  All  the  sources  of 
his  information  put  together  did  not  give  him  a  sound  technical 
education.  He  never  was  fluent  in  the  grammar  of  art.  One 
feels  in  his  canvases  the  presence  of  a  bright  spirit  that  would  be 
free,  but  is  held  fast  by  the  medium — confined,  like  the  jann  in  the 
bottle,  and  continually  crying,  "Let  me  out!  Let  me  out !  "  His 
drawing  was  faulty,  for  he  had  only  an  elementary  knowledge  of 
anatomy ;  but  he  was  decidedly  picturesque  in  his  outlines,  and 
though  he  could  not  always  relieve  a  head  by  light  and  shade,  he 
could  paint  it  cleverly  enough.  He  was  facile,  too,  in  painting 
stuffs,  draperies,  and  flowing  hair ;  but  with  flesh  he  was  too  often 
florid,  and  with  contours,  again,  too  hard.  His  shadows,  especially 
the  shadows  of  the  face  or  hands,  were  often  red  and  uncomfortably 
warm ;  and  as  for  his  color,  there  was  plenty  of  it,  but  in  no  great 
variety.  Sometimes  it  had  depth  and  harmony;  but  usually  the  ga- 
mut was  limited,  the  notes  a  trifle  shallow  and  lacking  in  resonance. 
During  his  successful  years  in  Cavendish  Square  he  was  ex- 
claiming: "This  cursed  portrait-painting!  How  I  am  shackled 
with  it !  "  He  moved  into  his  large  house  at  Hampstead  that  he 
might  rid  himself  of  it  and  have  a  final  try  at  the  historical  piece. 
That  was  his  life's  dream,  but  it  was  never  realized ;  for  composi- 
tion on  a  large  scale  was  beyond  him.  It  was  no  more  a  forte 
with  Romney  than  with  Reynolds.  His  Miltonic  and  Shaksperian 
subjects  have  little  to  commend  them.  The  "  Infant  Shakspere 
Attended  by  Nature  and  the  Passions  "  is  a  group  of  figures  kneel- 
ing about  a  square-headed  child,  and  is  hysterical  as  well  as 
allegorical.  The  "Tempest" — a  scene  from  the  play,  with  Pros- 
pero  and  Miranda  at  the  door  of  the  cell — is  a  composition  cut  in 
two  and  strained  in  the  figures.  The  "  Milton  Composing  '  Para- 
dise Lost'"  is  wholly  wanting  in  imagination.  The  pictures  of 
Muses,    Bacchantes,   Ariadnes,   and    Nymphs   in   landscape   were 


86  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

better,  because  they  were  merely  portraits  of  handsome  women  in 
costume.  His  best  and  most  complete  work  was  his  portraiture ; 
yet  even  here  he  was  not  always  satisfactory  in  composition.  How 
many  figures  he  placed  awkwardly  upon  the  canvas,  with  not 
enough  room  at  the  top  for  the  head,  and  not  enough  at  the  bot- 
tom for  the  feet !  How  many  pictures  by  him  have  added  canvas 
at  the  ends  and  are  cut  down  at  the  sides !  Not  to  go  beyond  our 
illustrations,  the  "Parson's  Daughter"  is  a  square  picture  framed 
in  an  oval  to  help  the  composition,  and  the  charming  picture  of  Lady 
Derby  is  cramped  at  the  bottom  and  empty  at  the  sides.  One 
might  draw  up  a  long  list  of  these  forms  and  faces  pushed  into 
spaces  too  large  or  too  small  for  them.  Romney  was  aware  of 
these  shortcomings.  Hundreds  of  canvases  were  begun,  and  aban- 
doned before  finished.  Many  were  cut  to  pieces  in  fits  of  discour- 
agement. When  he  died  his  house  was  found  to  be  full  of  "starts"; 
and,  unfortunately  for  the  painter's  fame,  he  is  now  being  judged 
by  these  sketches.  With  all  his  faults,  he  is  deserving  of  a 
better  fate  than  that ;  for  occasionally  he  produced  such  portraits 
as  "Mrs.  Cawardine  and  Child,"  "Lady  Cavendish-Bentinck," 
"  Miss  Sneyd  as  Serena,"  which  cannot  be  praised  too  highly.  He 
could,  and  did,  do  these  fine,  sensitive  portraits ;  and  once  in  a 
while  he  struck  off  the  character  of  a  man  with  surprising  sturdi- 
ness:  but  the  great  mass  of  his  work  suffered  from  his  want  of  perse- 
verance. Impulsively  he  dashed  at  a  canvas,  without  having  thought 
it  out ;  and  then  just  as  impulsively  he  threw  it  aside  in  disgust. 

Romney  was  not  unlike  his  contemporaries  Reynolds  and 
Gainsborough  in  his  general  point  of  view  and  in  his  technical  exe- 
cution. He  had  the  same  feeling  for  the  winsomeness,  gaiety,  and 
coquetry  of  women  ;  he  often  had  the  same  subjects  to  paint  from  ; 
and  he  set  his  palette  with  substantially  the  same  warm-keyed  pig- 
ments :  but  he  was  never  their  equal  in  breadth  of  view,  in  skill  of 
hand,  in  painstaking  effort.  A  painter  born,  he  lacked  the  accom- 
plishment of  perfect  expression,  and  could  but  inadequately  tell  the 
bright  vision  he  saw  in  the  well.  The  personal  enthusiasm,  the 
feeling  for  beauty,  are  manifest  enough  ;  they  bubble  up  impul- 
sively ;  and  if  at  times  they  are  somewhat  crude,  they  nevertheless 
have  the  indescribable  charm  of  unpremeditated  art.  Romney  was 
nothing  if  not  spontaneous.  The  great  pity  is  that  he  had  not  his 
spontaneity  under  control.  He  longed  for  free  utterance,  yet 
could  not  endure  the  patient  toil  that  alone  leads  up  to  it. 


GEORGE     ROMNEY 


87 


NOTES   BY  THE    ENGRAVER 


ONE  of  the  rarest  and  most  delicate 
creations  by  Romney  is  the  portrait 
of  the  "  Parson's  Daughter,"  which  hangs 
in  the  National  Gallery,  London.  As  an 
example  of  English  portraiture  it  is  one 
of  the  most  subtile  heads  of  the  art  period 
in  which  Romney  lived. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  painter  owed 
his  fame  to  his  benign  enchantress,  the 
"fair  Emma," — Lady  Hamilton, —  who 
posed  for  him  in  a  great  many  of  his 
works,  though  none  of  the  many  paint- 
ings which  I  have  seen  of  her  head  exe- 
cuted by  him  can  compare  with  this  of 
the  "  Parson's  Daughter,"  either  in  depth 
of  sentiment  or  breadth  of  treatment ;  for 
the  soul  here  breathes  through  the  coun- 
tenance because  there  is  a  soul  beneath ; 
the  execution  takes  on  greater  simpli- 
city; and  the  technique  is  of  a  higher 
quality  than  in  many  of  his  finest  works. 
It  is  broad,  loose,  and  fluent,  inspired  by 
the  necessity  of  the  occasion,  and  ex- 
pressive of  his  mood  at  the  time  of  seeing; 
for  the  artist  evidently  was  preoccupied 
with  the  spirituality  of  his  sitter.  With 
what  sympathy  does  he  depict  the  sub- 
dued meditative  feeling,  the  tender  sweet- 
ness of  a  mild,  unsullied  nature,  reared  in 
an  atmosphere  of  religious  thought  and 
chaste  affection !  The  almost  ethereal 
presence  of  the  delicately  poised  head,  in 
its  cloud  of  soft  hair,  is  beautiful  to  con- 
template in  its  purity  and  innocence. 

It  is  said  that  Romney  always  flattered 
his  women  ;  that  he  did  not  possess,  like 
his  contemporary  Sir  Joshua,  the  happy 
gift  of  viewing  his  sitter,  by  the  aid  of  his 
imagination,  through  a  sort  of  poetic  haze 
that  softened  the  commonplace  aspect  of 
every  day.  But  what  can  be  said,  in  this 
respect,  of  the  "  Parson's  Daughter  "  or 
the   "  Lady    Derby "  ?     And    there   are 


many  more  such  examples  of  single  fig- 
ures and  portraits  whose  beauty  and  dig- 
nity inspire  one  with  lasting  respect  for 
their  author.  It  is  the  dictum  of  a  fa- 
mous Parisian  portrait-painter  of  our  day 
that  artists  should  not  exhibit  portraits 
of  women  unless  they  show  beautiful 
faces  —  unless  the  painter  can  combine 
beauty  of  arrangement  and  color  with 
beauty  of  feature  as  well.  Every  element 
in  the  make-up  must  be  of  interest,  but 
beauty  of  feature  is  of  prime  importance ; 
for  who  can  be  interested  long  in  a 
homely  face  ?  Yet  character  will  always 
hold  the  attention,  and  how  much  can 
mere  beauty  of  feature  count  for,  if  there 
be  wanting  that  spiritual  essence  of  beauty 
of  mind  ?  All  the  perfection  of  arrange- 
ment and  color  and  form  can  never  com- 
pensate for  the  want  of  this  saving  grace, 
and  it  is  the  lack  of  this  quality  —  this 
sweet  good  sense  —  that  we  feel  so  dis- 
tressingly in  the  Lady  Hamilton  heads; 
they  show  plainly  the  professional  beauty 
in  too  many  instances,  and  in  some  cases 
they  degenerate  from  even  this  low  stan- 
dard into  mere  prettiness  and  simpering 
insipidity.  In  point  of  technique  they 
fail  as  well,  becoming  labored  and  niggled 
to  the  texture  of  a  chromolithograph. 
It  is  noteworthy  here  that  Romney's  in- 
fatuation with  the  "fair  Emma"  did 
not  occur  until  he  was  nearly  fifty  and 
had  fallen  into  a  state  of  some  mental 
and  physical  decay. 

The  canvas  of  the  "  Parson's  Daugh- 
ter," which  is  in  a  circular  frame,  show- 
ing a  life-sized  bust,  measures  twenty-five 
inches  in  diameter.  The  coloring  of  the 
whole,  as  in  the  majority  of  Romney's 
works,  is  a  warm  tone  of  grayish  brown. 
It  would  seem  as  though  he  began  his  pic- 
tures in  a  thin,  warm  monotone  consisting 


88 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


of  black,  yellow,  and  white,  and  worked 
them  up  in  this  way  with  light  and  shade, 
adding  finally  a  little  touch  of  color, 
rubbed  on  with  his  finger  here  and  there, 
by  way  of  brightening  the  ensemble. 
The  hair  in  this  example  is  auburn,  or 
light  brown,  fading  gently  into  the  deeper 
tones  of  the  warm  background,  as  well  as 
floating  softly  into  the  pearly  gray  color 
of  the  flesh.  There  is  a  bright  note  of 
color  in  the  green  ribbon  that  runs  through 
the  hair,  binding  it  up  from  the  forehead 
—  it  is  bright  compared  to  the  whole, 
though  in  itself  of  a  dull,  soft  hue.  Rom- 
ney's  coloring  is  usually  not  harsh.  The 
soft  white  tulle  about  the  neck  and  shoul- 
ders is  delicately  managed  with  breadth 
and  subordination.  The  waist  below  this 
is  brown  of  a  slightly  more  pronounced 
shade  than  the  tone  of  the  background. 

The  portrait  of  Lady  Derby  is  another 
example  belonging  to  the  class  of  Rom- 
ney's  poetical  conceptions,  though  it  is 
not  wrought  in  so  elevated  a  mood  or  in 
so  rapid  a  space  of  time  as  we  may  ima- 
gine the  "  Parson's  Daughter "  to  have 
been  done,  compared  with  which,  in  its 
treatment,  it  is  less  free,  tighter,  and  more 
elaborate.  It  is  life-sized,  on  canvas,  and 
in  coloring  and  chiaroscuro  it  is  the  rich- 
est instance  I  have  seen  by  the  master, 
combining  few  tones  with  great  effect. 
Engraving  could  never  give  the  profound 
and  lustrous  darks  of  its  background,  the 
warmth  and  rich  brown  shades  of  which 
are  relieved  by  grayer  patches  of  light 
seen  through  the  trees  and  in  the  fine 
glimpse  of  landscape  beyond.  These 
gray  touches  lead  up  to  the  color  of  the 
drapery,  which  is  of  a  soft,  warm  gray, 
and  silky  in  texture;  the  lower  skirt  is 
damasked  delicately  and  of  the  same 
value  and  color.  The  light  steals  gently 
along  this,  mounting  to  its  climax  with 
force  and  brilliancy  in  the  warmer  and 
more  highly  colored  tones  of  the  flesh. 
In  point  of  technique  it  is  innocent  of 
anything    like    bravura    and    dexterity; 


there  is  nothing  in  it  to  arrest  the  atten- 
tion and  interest.  He  adheres  in  his 
treatment  to  the  traditions  of  his  time. 
"  The  secret  of  his  success,"  as  Mr.  Lionel 
Cust  aptly  observes,  "  lay  in  his  being 
a  poet  and  a  dreamer."  "  In  Romney's 
brain,"  as  he  further  remarks,  "  the  fleeting 
visions  of  beauty  nestled  and  made  then- 
home,  and  sought  their  outlet  in  the  por- 
traits on  his  easel.  His  art  was  entirely 
intimate,  personal  to  himself  even  more 
than  to  his  sitters."  Yet  it  is  only  the 
mere  connoisseur,  I  fancy,  alive  but  to 
the  technical  side  of  art,  who  could  fail 
to  be  impressed  by  the  charming  senti- 
ment pervading  most  of  his  portraits  of 
women.  It  is  this  tranquil,  homely  feel- 
ing that  the  artist  sought  should  touch 
our  hearts  "  and  there  for  gentle  pleasure 
live."  We  are  touched  by  the  inner 
sweetness  and  refinement  of  Lady  Derby, 
for  instance,  who,  we  may  imagine,  has 
retired  to  a  leafy  grove  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening  for  a  moment  of  solitude  and 
communion  with  the  beauty  of  nature. 
"  Gazing,  she  feels  its  power  beguile  sad 
thoughts."  Or  possibly  she  is  thinking 
romantic  thoughts  that  are  to  be  con- 
verted into  sad  deeds.  At  twenty-one 
she  was  married  to  the  Earl  of  Derby,  but 
perhaps  not  happily  married;  for  she 
afterward  eloped  with  the  Duke  of  Dorset. 
She  died  in  1797  —  still  young  and  beau- 
tiful as  in  this  picture. 

This  feeling  is  less  pronounced  in  the 
portrait  of  Mrs.  Davies,  which  work,  in- 
deed, approaches  more  the  general  tenor 
of  the  majority  of  Romney's  half-lengths. 
There  is  little  attempt  at  individual  char- 
acter other  than  that  general  savor  of  fem- 
ininity common  to  the  sex,  and  which  was 
the  particular  development  of  Romney's 
art.  It  is  an  example,  too,  of  his  hasty 
modeling  and  his  want  of  a  knowledge  of 
anatomy.  Observe,  for  a  moment,  the 
hand.  How  barren  it  is  of  all  characteristic 
form  save  softness !  It  may  be  properly 
subordinated  to  the  expression  or  interest 


GEORGE    ROMNEY 


89 


of  the  head,  but  a  similar  flatness  prevails 
throughout  the  face ;  and  apparently  he 
could  not  bear  to  hurt  the  softness  of 
the  bosom  by  the  intrusion  of  anything 
suggestive  of  anatomy  —  though  no  one 
would  care  to  see  a  bony  breast  in  such 
a  case.  The  hair,  too,  partakes  of  the 
general  indecision,  though  doubtless  it  is 
the  softest  of  hair.  It  fades  duskily  into 
the  twilight  background,  which  in  turn 
melts  hazily  into  the  distant  hill  and  sur- 
rounding foliage,  and  which  again  floats 
dreamily  down  into  the  drapery.  Com- 
pare, by  the  way,  the  drapery  of  this  fig- 
ure with  that  of  the  "  Lady  Derby."    The 


grace  and  naturalness  of  this  latter  show 
at  once  that  the  artist  had  nature  before 
him  while  he  executed  it,  whereas  with  the 
"  Mrs.  Davies  "  the  dress  is  evidently  done 
from  chic,  as  the  French  say  —  that  is, 
from  memory,  or  "  out  of  the  head  "  ;  and 
I  should  venture  to  say  that  all  the  other 
parts,  with  the  exception  of  the  head,  are 
likewise  done  from  chic.  It  is  a  life-sized 
portrait,  and  in  coloring  it  is  delicate  and 
harmonious  throughout.  It  is  remark- 
ably well  preserved,  as  is  the  case  with 
Romney's  work  in  general,  for  the  reason 
that  it  is  painted  thinly  and  without  fugi- 
tive colors.  T.  C. 


JOHN    HOPPNER 


THE    RIGHT    HONORABLE    WILLIAM    PITT,    BY   JOHN    HOPPNER. 


COLLECTION    OF    LORD    ROSEBEKY,    LONDON. 


CHAPTER   VI 

JOHN    HOPPNER 
(1758-1810) 

WHEN  the  prophet  has  gone  hence,  there  lack  not  those 
who  catch  up  his  staff  and  mantle,  and  essay  prophecy 
after  his  manner,  if  not  in  his  name.  The  leader  is  not 
without  his  followers.  And  in  English  art  it  is  no  matter  for  sur- 
prise that  after  Reynolds  had  broken  the  ground,  the  Hoppners, 
the  Beecheys,  and  the  Northcotes  should  follow  in  the  furrow.  Sir 
Joshua  had  shown  them  how  to  paint  the  portrait  in  the  elevated 
style,  and  the  example  was  not  bestowed  in  vain.  They  gathered 
up  his  pose  and  attitude,  his  arrangement  of  drapery,  furniture,  and 
landscape,  his  color,  tone,  and  texture.  In  equipment  they  were 
well  enough  supplied,  and  they  painted  portraits  that  might  pass 
current  with  the  mob  as  Sir  Joshua's  very  own,  so  like  were  they 
in  superficial  appearance  ;  and  yet  there  was  a  something  wanting. 
A  manner  or  a  method  is  easily  caught,  but  an  individuality  and  a 
spirit  do  not  lend  themselves  so  readily  to  imitation.  The  vital 
quality  of  a  work  of  art  is  not  to  be  reproduced  by  rule. 

John  Hoppner  was  one  of  the  most  considerable  of  Sir  Joshua's 
followers.  He  was  called  "  the  most  daring  plagiarist  of  Reynolds 
and  the  boldest  rival  of  Lawrence,"  but  sweeping  assertions  were 
not  more  accurate  in  those  days  than  in  these.  Yet  it  is  true  that 
not  only  in  art,  but  in  personality,  social  qualities,  and  worldly  wis- 
dom, Hoppner  was  not  unlike  his  master.  He  was  born  under  the 
shadow  of  the  court,  lived  under  the  wing  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
and  during  his  life  he  never  got  very  far  from  either.  A  Londoner 
knowing  the  life  of  the  town,  a  bright  talker,  a  questionable  poet 
but  nevertheless  publishing  his  book  of  verses  for  fashionable  con- 
sumption, and  a  clever  painter  of  handsome  women   and   distin- 

93 


94 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


guished  men,  he  was  always  a  popular  success  without  being  an 
artistic  sensation.  His  birth  was  favorable  to  his  social  recogni- 
tion ;  for  his  mother  was  one  of  the  German  ladies  in  waiting  at 
the  court  of  George  III,  and  the  king  was  his  earliest  patron.  The 
tale  is  told  that  the  king's  interest  in  him  was  not  wholly  disinter- 
ested encouragement  of  promising  youth — a  tale  that  the  painter 
did  not  object  to  having  repeated.  He  liked  to  have  it  whispered 
with  a  wink  that  he  was  of  royal  extraction,  and  nothing  would 
have  pleased  him  better  than  a  title  of  nobility,  even  though  there 
were  a  blot  in  the  scutcheon. 

As  a  boy  Hoppner  was  a  chorister  in  the  Chapel  Royal ;  and 
when  he  wished  to  become  a  painter,  the  king  gave  him  a  pension 
and  sent  him  to  the  Royal  Academy  to  study.  This  was  in  1775. 
Three  years  later  he  took  a  silver  medal  for  drawing,  and  in  1782 
the  Academy's  highest  award — a  gold  medal — for  a  historical 
painting  representing  "  King  Lear."  At  this  time  he  was  living  at 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Patience  Wright,  the  American  who  gained 
celebrity  for  her  portraits  modeled  in  wax.  It  was  here  that  he 
met  many  people  of  the  town, —  Garrick,  Foote,  West,  and  others, — 
and  it  was  here  that  he  met  and  married  Mrs.  Wright's  daughter. 
In  1784  he  went  to  live  at  18  Charles  Street,  St.  James's  Square; 
and  there,  close  to  Carlton  House,  he  remained  until  his  death, 
January  23,  1810.  He  was  buried  in  the  cemetery  of  St.  James's 
Chapel,  and  even  in  death  was  not  far  removed  from  the  court  he 
had  painted  and  the  gay  circle  of  which  he  had  been  a  not  incon- 
spicuous member. 

Hoppner  made  progress  from  the  start.  He  was  devoted  in  his 
admiration  for  Reynolds,  but  that  did  not  help  him  any  at  the  court. 
The  king  had  never  liked  Sir  Joshua,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  his  apt  pupil.  However,  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
who  was  at  that  time  declared  to  have  "taste,"  helped  Hoppner  out 
by  making  him  portrait-painter  to  the  famous  throng  that  circled 
about  Carlton  House.  He  was  elected  an  A.R.A.  in  1792,  and 
an  R.A.  in  1795,  so  the  prestige  of  the  Academy  was  also  with 
him.  At  this  time  Reynolds  was  dead,  Romney  was  failing,  Law- 
rence was  as  yet  little  more  than  a  boy  wonder,  and  for  a  short  time 
Hoppner  had  matters  quite  his  own  way.  But  Lawrence  was  com- 
ing up  fast  in  the  race  for  popular  favor.  The  king  had  made  him 
court  painter  over  Hoppner's  head,  and  the  old  struggle  between 
Reynolds  and  Romney  was  to  repeat  itself  in  the  rivalry  of  these 


l'RIXCKSS    SOPHIA,    DAUGHTER    OF    GEORGE    III,      BY    JOHN     HOPPNER. 

v.  [NDSOR    I   \.STLE 


JOHN     HOPPNER  95 

younger  men.  Politics,  too,  had  something  to  do  with  it.  It  was 
Whig  against  Tory,  the  prince's  faction  against  the  king's.  Art 
for  art's  sake  was  an  unknown  shibboleth  at  the  Georgian  court. 
Politics  were  rubbed  into  everything — even  into  the  portraits  of 
the  royal  family. 

But  both  as  a  painter  and  a  courtier  Lawrence  was  the  stronger 
man,  and,  being  younger,  he  eventually  pushed  Hoppner  to  the 
wall.  Finally  the  older  man  lost  his  temper  and  exclaimed  with 
some  petulance  :  "The  ladies  of  Lawrence  show  a  gaudy  dissolute- 
ness of  taste,  and  sometimes  trespass  on  moral  as  well  as  profes- 
sional chastity."  It  was  a  cry  of  weakness,  and  provoked  only  a 
town  laugh.  The  idea  that  the  staid  old  dowagers  of  the  court 
should  look  gaudy  and  dissolute,  while  the  rapid  members  of  the 
Carlton  House  circle  simpered  through  blushes,  was  a  little  too 
ridiculous.  It  is  said  that  Hoppner's  remark  had  the  effect  of 
driving  half  the  beauties  of  the  prince's  set  into  Lawrence's  studio. 
Lawrence  himself  made  no  reply.  There  was  little  bitterness  on 
his  part.  When  Hoppner  was  dying  he  went  to  visit  him,  but 
the  kindness  was  misinterpreted.  "  In  his  visits  there  is  more  of 
joy  at  my  approaching  death  than  true  sympathy  for  my  sorrows," 
was  Hoppner's  comment.  Lawrence  really  admired  him  very 
much,  and  in  1S10  he  wrote  to  a  friend:  "  You  will  be  sorry  to  hear 
it;  my  most  powerful  competitor — he  whom  only  to  my  friends  I 
have  acknowledged  as  my  rival — is,  I  fear,  sinking  to  the  grave;  I 
mean,  of  course,  Hoppner.  .  .  .  You  will  believe  that  I  sincerely 
feel  the  loss  of  a  brother  artist  from  whose  works  I  have  often 
gained  instruction,  and  who  has  gone  on  by  my  side  in  the  race 
these  eighteen  years." 

The  rivalry  between  the  men  was,  of  course,  not  one  of  princi- 
ple. It  was  merely  a  struggle  as  to  which  should  paint  the  greater 
number  of  the  nobility.  It  was  Hoppner's  best  boast  that  he  was 
painter  extraordinary  to  "people  of  quality."  He  did  not  disdain 
the  painting  of  the  other  and  the  lower  half  of  society,  but  he  pre- 
ferred the  grand  lady  in  white,  with  marvelous  hat  or  wig,  seated 
in  romantic  landscape,  or  the  young  lord  in  Brummel  cravat, 
Petersham  trousers,  and  blazing  waistcoat.  During  his  life  he  sent 
no  less  than  one  hundred  and  sixty-six  pictures  to  the  exhibitions 
of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  most  of  these  were  princes  and 
princesses,  lords  and  ladies,  bishops,  generals,  politicians.  In 
1803  Wilkin  engraved  a  select  number  of  his  portraits  of  women, 


96  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

and  they  were  published  under  the  fetching  title  of  "A  Select  Series 
of  Ten  Portraits  of  Ladies  of  Rank  and  Fashion."  It  is  a  little 
remarkable  how  preternaturally  noble  these  ladies  look.  In  that 
respect  they  might  all  be  descendants  of  one  royal  strain,  rather 
than  different  people  of  doubtful  breeding. 

But  Hoppner  had  a  receipt  for  aristocratic  looks.  It  was  "  a 
vulgar  error  to  make  things  look  too  like  themselves  ";  and  one  of 
his  admirers  summed  him  up  by  saying  that  he  had  "the  power  of 
improving  what  was  placed  before  him  without  annihilating  resem- 
blance." Yes ;  Sir  Peter  Lely  had  the  same  power  in  the  same 
land,  with  the  same  kind  of  sitters  ;  but  plain  people  spoke  of  it  as 
the  power  of  flattery.  Hoppner  was  given  to  it.  He  could  iron 
out  wrinkles,  shape  noses,  and  mold  faces  to  please  fashion ;  and 
the  more  he  improved  upon  nature,  the  more  fashion  liked  it.  It 
is  true,  in  one  sense,  that  he  did  not  annihilate  "  resemblance," 
for  all  his  ladies  of  rank  look  somewhat  alike.  The  eyes  are 
exaggerated  in  size ;  the  noses  seem  done  from  one  model ;  the 
cheeks  are  all  heavy  in  the  angle  of  the  jaw.  There  is  a  Hopp- 
ner ideal  about  them.  Again,  there  is  a  resemblance  running 
through  his  portraits  of  women  in  the  sentiment  displayed.  The 
heads  droop  at  sad  angles,  the  eyes  look  unutterable  things,  the 
manner  is  listless,  far  away,  abstracted.  Love  seems  to  have  shot 
arrows  into  them  all.  They  are  victims  of  the  same  romance,  and 
seem  to  be  affected  in  the  same  melancholy  way.  One  misses  the 
sharp  snap  of  individual  character  in  the  sitter.  This  is  equally  true 
of  his  children.  They  are  generalized,  prettified,  and  yet  not  with- 
out grace  and  charm.  Sometimes  they  are  sprightly,  naive,  even 
childlike,  though  of  noble  birth,  as  witness  the  lovely  "  Princess 
Sophia,  Daughter  of  George  III,"  which  Mr.  Cole  has  engraved. 

Hoppner  has  been  credited  with  painting  women  successfully, 
and  practically  failing  with  the  other  sex.  But  one  may  be  par- 
doned for  registering  a  dissenting  opinion  just  here.  He  thought 
that  women  loved  the  gentle  lie,  and  approved  of  flattery  ;  therefore 
he  flattered :  but  men  required  something  of  truthful  character 
rather  than  sweetness ;  therefore  he  painted  character.  The  por- 
trait of  Pitt  is  an  example.  How  very  positive  it  is  in  the  strong 
jaw  and  chin,  the  deep-set  eyes  and  prominent  eyebrows,  the  alto- 
gether powerful  head !  Here  Hoppner  told  the  truth  in  the  frank- 
est manner  possible  to  him.  He  was  not  smoothing  a  fashionable 
brow,  but  emphasizing  a  thoughtful  one ;  he  was  not  modeling  a 


JOHN     HOPPNER  97 

Hoppner  nose  and  jaw,  but  painting  the  individual  features  of  Pitt. 
Given  the  strong  face,  and  Hoppner  could  paint  it  in  a  strong 
manner. 

And  this,  too,  despite  inaccuracies  of  drawing.  He  never 
knew — the  Royal  Academy  could  not  teach  him  —  how  to  draw 
accurately ;  but  he  had  the  school  knack  of  modeling  in  paint  and 
producing  a  surface  appearance  that  was  perhaps  the  more  lifelike 
for  being  somewhat  irregular.  Accuracy  does  not  necessarily  mean 
vitality.  A  rambling  drawing  of  a  cottage  may  give  the  picturesque 
bulk  and  look,  where  a  ruled  architectural  drawing  would  give  only 
an  empty  cardboard  skeleton.  Hoppner  set  hats  and  eyes  askew, 
lost  at  times  the  position  of  the  nose  as  related  to  the  mouth,  and 
was  never  fortunate  in  drawing  a  jaw  or  a  neck ;  but  in  spite  of 
these  laxities,  he  usually  made  something  lifelike,  interesting,  pic- 
turesque— something  that,  without  a  suggestion  of  caricature,  was 
more  natural  than  nature  itself.  And  that  was  what  he  was  seek- 
ing. All  these  English  painters  were  more  concerned  with  the 
spirit  of  their  work  than  its  form.  Life — the  sense  of  being  in  the 
presence  of  something  that  once  lived  and  moved — is  omnipresent. 
How  much  academic  portrait-painting  in  the  present  day  gives  one 
the  impression  of  the  subject  having  been  painted  after  death  from 
a  photograph  !  It  is  accurate  enough,  but  how  icily  regular,  how 
splendidly  null !  Hoppner's  portraits  show  that  he  was  not  able  to 
draw  with  classic  precision  ;  but  perhaps  his  ignorance  of  line  was 
his  artistic  salvation,  for  it  led  him  to  substitute  the  color  patch,  and 
to  gain  in  natural  effect  what  he  lost  in  linear  truth. 

In  his  figure-pieces — for  of  course,  being  only  a  portrait- 
painter,  he  had  to  attempt  the  historical  composition  —  he  was  even 
less  accurate  than  in  portraits.  His  sleeping  nymphs  are  swathed 
in  graceful  swirls  and  flows  of  drapery,  but  they  have  dislocated 
arms  and  legs,  or  they  are  elongated  for  effects  of  grace.  His 
"Jupiter  and  Io,"  following  Correggio,  is  decidedly  heavy;  his 
"  Pisanio  and  Imogen"  shows  necks,  shoulders,  and  arms  sadly 
out  of  drawing;  his  "Cupid  and  Psyche"  gives  poor  Psyche  not 
foreshortened,  but  telescoped.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  these  sins, 
Hoppner  did  convey  a  sense  of  animation.  His  rambling,  loose 
line  seemed  to  lend  to  action.  The  picture  of  "Mile.  Hillsberg 
as  a  Dancing-girl "  in  an  Oriental  interior  is  a  good  instance  of  it. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  ambitious  of  his  subject- pictures,  and  is  un- 
certain in  its  drawing  and  painting;  yet  what  a  feeling  of  dash  and 


98  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

movement  forward  there  is  about  the  figure !  The  painter  was  not 
always  so  successful.  The  "  Mrs.  Jordan  "  in  the  character  of  the 
Comic  Muse,  and  the  "  Jessamy  Bride"  (Mrs.  Gwyn),  are  not  equal 
to  the  Mile.  Hillsberg  picture,  though  graceful  in  drapery  and 
rather  good  in  color. 

Hoppner's  handling  doubtless  added  to  the  spirit  of  his  work. 
It  was  facile  in  such  features  as  drapery,  hair,  foliage ;  and  usually 
ran  on,  recording  slips  and  errors  just  as  happily  as  truths.  He 
never  possessed  sufficient  elementary  knowledge  for  facile  brush- 
work,  but  that  did  not  discourage  him.  He  dashed  at  things,  and 
tried  to  hide  deficiencies  by  glibness.  Nor  had  he  a  deep  sense  of 
color,  but  he  dashed  at  that  just  as  boldly.  It  was  usually  thinner 
and  frailer  than  that  of  Reynolds, — something  too  much  of  high 
soprano,  with  insufficient  body  in  the  orchestral  accompaniment, — 
but  it  was  not  badly  arranged,  nor  was  it  wholly  lacking  in  charm. 
To-day  his  color  often  appears  marred  from  the  use  of  pigments 
that  have  faded  and  varnishes  that  have  yellowed  the  whites.  Sir 
Joshua's  faults  as  well  as  his  virtues  were  appropriated  by  his 
followers. 

Before  he  was  twenty-four  years  of  age  Hoppner  was  looked 
upon  as  a  possible  success  as  a  landscapist ;  but  after  he  became 
established  in  court  circles  he  did  little  more  than  paint  Fashion's 
face.  His  figures,  his  landscapes,  his  rustic  pieces  (for  he  followed 
Gainsborough  in  that  subject),  are  of  small  importance.  Nor  was  he 
a  success  in  the  historical  composition.  There  was  really  no  public  de- 
mand for  it.  Opie  complained  that  "  so  habituated  are  the  people 
of  this  country  to  the  sight  of  portraiture  only  that  they  can  scarcely 
as  yet  consider  painting  in  any  other  light."  The  painters  rarely 
got  beyond  the  single  figure.  When  they  attempted  the  historical, 
it  was  little  more  than  a  modified  portrait  group,  and  not  very  good 
at  that.  Yet  Hogarth,  Hoppner,  and  all  the  painters  of  the  time 
denounced  the  public  for  its  admiration  of  old  Italian  pictures  at 
the  expense  of  English  ones. 

Hoppner  lives  to-day  by  his  portraits.  The  best  of  these  are 
still  in  the  private  houses  of  England.  There  is  a  notable  gathering 
of  them  in  the  state  apartments  of  St.  James's  Palace.  But,  unfor- 
tunately, the  pictures  in  the  public  galleries  of  England  do  the 
painter  scant  justice.  It  is  true  he  was  a  follower  of  Sir  Joshua, 
but  not  exactly  the  "daring  plagiarist "  he  has  been  called.  He 
had  a  spirit  and  a  view  of  his  own;  and  those  who  think  they  know 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    OXFORD,    BY    JOHN    HOPPNER 

NATIONAL   GALLERY.    LONDON. 


JOHN     HOPPNER 


99 


the  man  and  his  work  occasionally  stumble  upon  examples  of  him, 
in  the  English  country  houses,  so  astonishing  in  their  individuality 
and  force  that  they  call  for  a  revision  of  judgment.  He  is  not  to  be 
judged  wholly  by  his  sentimental  "ladies  of  rank  and  fashion," — 
portraits  which  he  doubtless  painted  to  keep  in  good  standing  with 
court  society, — but  by  his  "  Pitt,"  his  "  Canning,"  and  his  children's 
portraits.  These  certainly  entitle  him  to  be  named  one  of  the  best 
of  those  who  came  after  Gainsborough  and  Sir  Joshua. 


NOTES   BY   THE    ENGRAVER 


THERE  is  no  finer  portrait  of  William 
Pitt  in  existence  than  this  one  by 
Hoppner  in  the  collection  of  Lord  Rose- 
bery,  which  we  were  granted  permission 
to  photograph  and  engrave.  Hoppner 
made  more  than  one  portrait  of  the  great 
statesman,  and  upon  the  decease  of  the 
latter  executed  repetitions  of  the  same, 
especially  of  the  one  finished  for  Lord 
Mulgrave, —  the  Mulgrave  portrait, —  the 
last  that  Pitt  sat  for  to  the  artist.  It  is 
evident,  however,  that  this  life-sized  bust 
which  Lord  Rosebery  owns  was  painted 
from  the  living  man.  Lawrence,  the 
contemporary  of  Hoppner,  also  painted  a 
portrait  of  Pitt,  which  was  much  praised 
by  a  critic  of  the  time  as  evincing  the 
mind  of  the  man ;  but  it  has  nothing  of 
the  virile  quality  that  this  one  by  Hopp- 
ner possesses.  And  small  wonder  that  it 
should  be  so  lacking,  since  it  was  painted 
from  a  death-mask  and  animated  from 
one  of  Hoppner's  portraits — to  all  appear- 
ances from  this  very  one  engraved  here. 

It  was  character,  first  and  last,  that 
Hoppner  aimed  at  in  this  head.  The 
bold  yet  unassuming  front,  and  the  erect, 
sturdy  carriage,  with  the  left  arm  behind 
the  back  and  right  one  forward,  are 
noticeable.  He  stands  as  honest  and  as 
firm  as  a  rock.  We  feel  the  power,  en- 
ergy, and  moral  stamina  of  the  man.  I 
like  the  well-proportioned  lineaments  of 
the  face.     The  alert  and  resolute  mind  is 


there,  and  the  habit  of  thought  is  observ- 
able in  the  slight  contraction  of  the  brow. 
The  technique  of  the  head,  though  not 
disclosing  any  very  marked  degree  of  fa- 
cility of  brushwork,  reveals,  nevertheless, 
a  manly  vigor  of  execution  not  remind- 
ing one  of  any  other  style,  save,  in  a  vague 
way,  perhaps,  that  of  Reynolds ;  while 
in  the  general  handling  and  arrangement 
we  see  how  the  artist  sought  to  express 
his  sentiment  of  the  character,  as,  for  in- 
stance, in  the  disposition  of  the  bust  upon 
the  canvas.  The  placing  of  the  head  well 
above  the  center  lends  a  character  of 
dignity  and  distinction  to  it,  independent 
of  that  which  the  artist  imports  into  it 
from  his  own  insight.  Another  element 
which  contributes  force  in  this  direction 
rests  in  the  fact  that  it  possesses  but  three 
pronounced  values,  namely:  the  white  of 
the  neckerchief,  the  gray  of  the  face  and 
head,  and  the  mass  of  the  surrounding 
dark  color.  Its  important  changes  of 
surface  are  left  thus  simple,  that  the  eye 
may  take  in  with  ease  the  full  effect 
of  the  head.  Then,  again,  to  the  solidity 
of  texture  and  force  and  brilliancy  of  light 
and  shade  discernible  in  the  head,  the 
treatment  of  the  background  and  coat 
greatly  contributes;  for  the  coat  —  the 
tone  of  which  is  a  soft  warm  shade  of 
black  tinged  with  a  faint  bluish  or  green- 
ish cast  in  its  broad  lighting  —  fades 
gently  into  the  rich  bituminous  depth  of 


IOO 


OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 


the  background,  and  is  subdued  and  sub- 
ordinated in  its  details  to  the  expression 
and  interest  of  the  head.  Though  this 
portrait  shows  Pitt  at  about  the  age  of 
forty,  yet  his  hair  is  already  white,  the 
result,  doubtless,  of  the  cares  and  toils 
of  his  active  and  arduous  career. 

In  the  portrait  of  the  Countess  of  Ox- 
ford, the  figure,  posed  out  of  doors,  is,  as 
may  be  imagined,  illumined  by  the  last 
rays  of  the  setting  sun,  while  the  back- 
ground against  which  it  is  relieved  is  com- 
posed of  the  blue-gray  tones  of  moonlight ; 
the  moon  is  shown  just  dipping  below  a 
great  dark  cloud.  It  is  a  purely  fanciful 
conceit  on  the  part  of  the  artist,  for  the 
effect  is  not  studied  from  nature,  but  put 
in  from  chic,  and  the  figure  lighted  by 
the  prevailing  studio-light,  which  served 
in  those  days  equally  for  outdoor  as 
for  indoor  effects.  The  arms  are  thrown 
into  shadow,  apparently  because  the 
artist  wanted  a  strong  concentration  of 
light  upon  the  dominant  point  of  interest 
—  the  head  and  bosom.  It  is  a  very  un- 
usual treatment  of  arms,  and  I  have  not 
met  with  another  instance  of  its  kind  in 
the  art  of  this  epoch.  I  should  unhesi- 
tatingly question  the  good  taste  of  it  on 
the  ground  that  the  arms  of  girls  are 
usually  too  beautiful  thus  to  be  utterly 
cast  into  the  shade.  The  rule  regarding 
such  important  parts  —  immemorial  in 
its  custom  with  respect  to  portraits  —  is 
that  they  should  occupy,  in  the  general 
scheme  of  lighting,  a  second  or  third  tone 
lower  than  the  dominant  light  and  point 
of  interest.  There  is  considerable  breadth 
of  treatment  in  the  head ;  the  hair  is 
managed  with  fullness  and  softness.  The 
necklace  is  of  coral,  and  its  brilliant  note 
of  color  —  the  brightest  touch  in  the 
canvas  —  is  not  without  importance  in  its 
bearing  upon  the  general  tone  of  the  flesh, 
as  well  as  in  its  attracting  the  eye  natu- 
rally and  instantly  to  the  face. 

The  countess  is  here  shown,  life-sized, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-three  years.     The 


picture  is  painted  on  wood,  size  two  feet 
six  inches  high  by  two  feet  wide,  and 
hangs  in  the  National  Gallery,  London. 
It  is  astonishingly  fresh  in  color.  There 
is  another  portrait  of  the  countess,  like- 
wise by  Hoppner,  in  the  Louvre  at  Paris, 
in  which  she  is  seen  some  six  or  seven 
years  older.  The  lady's  maiden  name  was 
Jane  Elizabeth  Scott.  She  was  the  wife 
of  Edward,  fifth  Earl  of  Oxford,  born 
1774,  died  in  1824.  The  picture  was 
bequeathed  by  her  daughter  Lady  Lang- 
dale  to  the  National  Gallery  in  1873. 

The  portrait  of  the  little  Princess  Sophia 
must  have  been  a  likeness  that  gave  due 
satisfaction  when  finished ;  and  even  at 
the  present  day  it  seems  to  reassure  one 
of  the  personality  of  the  model.  It  can- 
not be  objected  to  Hoppner's  children, 
as  it  has  been  to  his  women,  that  they 
were  painted  after  a  formula :  first  hand- 
some, and  afterward  a  likeness.  The 
artist  evidently  felt  the  naive  beauty  of 
childhood,  and  sought  to  portray  it  above 
all  else ;  and  though  his  little  sitters  might 
be  princesses,  they  were  as  children  that 
they  first  appealed  to  him.  In  the  present 
instance  the  pose  and  sentiment  of  the 
arrangement  could  not  be  more  happily 
chosen  or  more  characteristic  of  a  child, 
shown  as  the  princess  is  under  the  open 
sky  upon  the  hills,  and  pausing  for  a 
moment  to  look  at  the  spectator  while 
busy  flower-picking.  The  contrast  of  the 
sunny  head  against  the  black  and  threat- 
ening clouds  was  a  happy  thought.  The 
background  is  a  conventional  affair  ema- 
nating from  the  studio.  The  upper  dark 
cloud  is  forced  up  to  a  pitchy  blackness  in 
order  to  relieve  the  head  in  as  striking  a 
manner  as  possible  ;  also  the  black  cape  is 
chosen  for  the  same  purpose,  while  the 
golden  head,  with  its  harmonious  yellow 
straw  hat  and  ribbons  to  match,  could 
not  have  a  more  brilliant  setting,  illumi- 
nated, as  it  is  supposed  to  be,  by  a  ray  of 
sunshine  from  out  the  stormy  sky. 

T.  C. 


SIR   WILLIAM    BEECHEY 


CHAPTER   VII 

SIR    WILLIAM    BEECHEY 

(I7S3-I839) 

THE  career  of  Sir  William  Beechey  reminds  us  anew  of  the  ease 
with  which  a  fashion-made  fame  may  "  blaze  and  pass  away." 
Sir  William  was  a  court  painter,  a  Royal  Academician,  a 
much-praised  delineator  of  society  folk  in  the  time  of  George  III. 
During  a  long  life  he  exhibited  at  the  Academy  upward  of  three 
hundred  and  fifty  portraits  of  royalty,  nobility,  and  celebrity;  every 
one  of  note  sat  to  him,  and  after  Sir  Joshua  he  was  the  first  painter 
to  be  knighted  by  the  king ;  and  yet  to-day  there  are  few  of  his 
profession  to  do  him  reverence.  His  reputation  and  even  his  pic- 
tures seem  to  have  disappeared  from  view.  Some  of  his  portraits 
are  still  in  royal  residences  and  English  country  houses,  but  one 
rarely  sees  his  work  in  public  places. 

Beechey  was  born  at  Burford,  December  12,  1753,  and  was 
destined  by  his  parents  to  follow  the  legal  profession.  At  .first  he 
was  articled  to  a  conveyancer  at  Stow,  Gloucestershire,  and  after- 
ward to  a  solicitor  in  London.  He  had  not  been  long  in  town 
before  he  became  acquainted  with  some  art  students,  and  that  was 
probably  the  beginning  of  his  fancy  for  art.  In  1772  he  broke 
through  the  legal  mesh  and  became  a  pupil  at  the  Royal  Academy. 
He  had  Sir  Joshua  before  him  as  an  example  of  what  constituted  suc- 
cess in  art,  and  Paul  Sandby  was  a  friend  and  adviser  from  whom 
he  doubtless  learned  much.  Being  naturally  precocious,  he  soon 
attracted  attention  to  himself.  In  1775  he  exhibited  some  por- 
traits which  were  hailed  with  enthusiasm  by  his  fellow-students, 
and  from  that  time  on  he  was  ranked  as  a  painter  of  some  impor- 
tance. 

After  his  Academy  days,    Beechey  removed  to  Norwich,  and 

103 


104  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

remained  there  four  or  five  years,  painting  subject-pictures.  It  is 
said  that  these  pictures  were  a  genre  "  after  the  style  of  Hogarth," 
which  seems  somewhat  remarkable  considering  the  official  quality 
of  Beechey's  mind  and  later  art.  Just  what  the  value  of  these  early 
works  is  it  is  difficult  now  to  determine,  for  the  originals  are  widely 
scattered  or  lost.  Possibly  they  did  not  prove  any  too  remunera- 
tive, for  the  painter  came  back  to  London,  took  a  house  in  Brook 
Street,  and  began  painting  portraits  once  more.  The  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Cumberland  were  among  his  earliest  patrons,  and  he  did 
not  lack  friends  and  sitters  among  the  fashion  of  the  day.  The 
Royal  Academy  elected  him  an  associate  in  1793,  and  the  same 
year  he  received  a  commission  to  paint  the  portrait  of  Queen  Char- 
lotte. This  latter  honor  gave  him  the  title  of  painter  to  her 
Majesty  the  Queen,  which,  of  course,  raised  him  still  higher  in 
fashionable  esteem. 

Shortly  after  Beechey  had  finished  the  queen's  portrait  he  had 
the  chance  to  put  forth  what  has  been  called  his  masterpiece  —  a 
large  equestrian  group  of  George  III  with  the  Prince  of  Wales  and 
the  Duke  of  York  reviewing  the  hussars  and  the  dragoons.  The 
picture  is  now  at  Hampton  Court,  where  it  forms  a  part  of  the 
long  array  of  canvases  and  gold  frames  which  the  visitor  is  glad  to  let 
slip  by  him  unnoticed.  It  is  a  somewhat  bombastic  performance,  a 
showy  group  of  portraits  with  little  force  of  character  or  nature 
study  in  it.  Besides,  there  are  many  painter's  artifices  about  it 
that  rather  detract  from  the  sincerity  of  the  undertaking.  But  it 
served  Beechey's  purpose  well  in  gaining  him  court  favor.  The  king 
knighted  him  and  the  Royal  Academy  made  him  an  academician. 
Fashion  now  flocked  to  him  with  increased  eagerness,  and  he  be- 
came for  a  time  the  favorite  painter  in  the  town.  For  many 
years  he  held  a  following  of  his  own,  notwithstanding  that 
Lawrence  came  to  the  front,  claiming  the  adulation  of  the  hour. 
He  finally  retired  to  Hampstead,  and  died  there  in  1839,  a  very  old 
man.  He  was  twice  married,  his  second  wife  being  a  miniaturist, 
and  he  left  two  sons  who  became  painters  of  some  rank. 

Beechey's  portraits  belonging  to  his  first  period  were  executed 
with  precision,  and,  it  is  said,  bore  excellent  likeness  to  the  ori- 
ginals. They  look  it.  Something  of  true  feeling  for  the  personality 
of  the  sitter  is  apparent  in  them.  They  are  painstaking  efforts 
and  by  no  means  unsuccessful.  There  was  no  great  artistic  inspira- 
tion about  them,  no  striking  originality  ;  but  they  were  very  re- 


BROTHER    AM)    SISTER,    BY    SIR    WILLIAM    BEECHEY, 

LOUVRE,    PARIS. 


SIR    WILLIAM    BEECHEY  IO5 

spectable  performances.  Later  on,  when  he  became  prosperous, 
he  also  became  careless  in  his  drawing  and  matter-of-fact  in  his 
handling.  What  mental  grasp  and  point  of  view  he  originally  pos- 
sessed seemed  to  congeal  into  one  face,  one  figure,  one  pose.  A 
type  —  the  Beechey  type  —  was  the  result.  It  was  not  unlike  the 
Hoppner  type,  only  less  attractive.  His  court  beauties  are  large 
of  body,  round  of  arm,  heavy  of  cheek,  and  often  of  desperate  dull- 
ness. In  their  white  dresses,  blue  ribbons,  and  straw  hats  they 
seem  to  play  at  simplicity  and  innocence,  and  they  have  that  un- 
fathomable romance  in  their  large  eyes  which  was  produced  by 
studio  receipt  in  Beechey's  day. 

Such  portraiture  hardly  awakens  a  lively  sympathy.  It  is  too 
formal,  too  mechanical.  It  does  not  show  any  peculiar  or  attrac- 
tive painter's  temperament ;  it  is  not  stamped  by  genius  or  even 
elevated  by  extraordinary  skill.  Occasionally  Beechey  did  chil- 
dren with  spirit  and  naive  characterization,  as  Mr.  Cole's  engraving 
happily  indicates,  and  sometimes  he  did  men  with  a  British  sturdi- 
ness  about  them  ;  but  these  were  exceptional.  More  often  he  pro- 
duced the  perfunctory  portrait  like  the  "  Alderman  John  Boydell " 
at  Guildhall  or  the  "  Mrs.  Siddons  "  in  the  National  Portrait  Gal- 
lery. Respectable  is  the  only  word  that  fittingly  describes  it.  It 
is  not  work  over  which  one  can  grow  enthusiastic. 

His  classical  pictures  were,  like  those  of  his  contemporaries, 
lacking  in  imagination  and  in  knowledge  of  composition.  Follow- 
ing Romney,  he  posed  young  women  as  Bacchantes,  Adorations, 
Evening  Stars,  Hebes  ;  but  in  each  case  it  was  merely  the  idealized 
portrait  with  some  attribute  to  suggest  the  title.  The  "  Infant 
Hercules"  was  a  Hercules  only  by  virtue  of  his  club,  and  when 
Beechey  repeated  the  figure  he  substituted  a  cross  for  the  club  and 
called  the  result  "  John  the  Baptist."  He  knew  little  about  historical 
painting,  but,  of  course,  he  primed  canvases  and  set  palettes  for  it 
like  every  one  in  the  school. 

Technically  Beechey  was  not  stronger  than  the  proverbially 
weakest  link  in  the  chain.  He  had  such  craftsmanship  as  was 
taught  at  the  Royal  Academy,  but  he  was  not  enough  of  an  ori- 
ginal mind  to  invent  a  method  of  his  own  or  even  improve  upon 
what  had  been  taught  him.  His  drawing  was  somewhat  exact  in 
his  first  endeavors,  somewhat  rambling  and  uncertain  in  his  later 
work.  His  contours  were  always  a  little  hard,  his  figures  always 
a  little  stiff.      In  colors  he  fancied  warm  hues,  and  believed,  with 


106  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

Reynolds,  that  they  should  form  the  body  of  the  work.  He  used 
them  in  his  portraits  of  men,  but  preferred  ivory  whites  and  dull 
blues  for  women.  There  was  no  great  depth  to  his  color  as  a 
body,  but  it  was  usually  satisfactory  and  often  something  more. 
It  was  perhaps  the  best  feature  of  his  art.  In  his  lights  and 
shadows  he  exaggerated  Sir  Joshua's  method  to  a  fault. 

Reynolds  groaned  in  spirit  at  seeing  his  shortcomings  empha- 
sized in  the  works  of  his  followers,  but  he  probably  never  dreamed 
that  their  pictures  would  pass  current  under  his  name.  A  painter 
usually  accumulates  enough  artistic  sins  of  his  own  without  being  held 
responsible  for  those  of  his  imitators.  Yet  it  has  been  Sir  Joshua's 
fate  to  have  not  a  few  of  Beechey's  pictures  laid  at  his  door.  Pos- 
sibly that  is  why  the  Beechey  portraits  are  so  scarce  at  the  present 
time.  Since  English  art  has  come  into  fashion  with  picture-col- 
lectors the  works  of  the  pupils  have  been  forced  to  do  service  for 
those  of  the  masters.  It  is  an  old  story  in  the  annals  of  picture- 
dealing,  begun  in  Greek  days  and  carried  through  the  Renaissance 
down  to  the  present  time. 


NOTES   BY   THE    ENGRAVER 

THE  portrait-piece  of  "  Brother  and  consciousness  of  superior  years,  and  is 

Sister "  by  Sir  William  Beechey  is  sweet   and   gentle ;    the   girl   shows  the 

one  of  the  best  and  most  pleasing  works  roguishness   and   naive    unconsciousness 

in   sentiment  that   I  have  seen  by  this  of  childhood,    and   is   flattered    in   thus 

master.     It  is  a  pretty  fancy  —  the  bro-  being  adorned  with  flowers.     I  like  her 

ther  in  the  act  of  decorating  his  sister  easy,  blithesome  air  and  attitude  as  jaunty 

with  the  flowers  she  has  gathered.     One  as  a  bird's. 

may  with  propriety  fancy  it  is  the  occasion  By  a  wise  judgment  the  artist  has  di- 

of  the  bright   little    creature's  birthday,  rected  the  gaze  of  the  boy  and  the  dog  off 

and  a  balmy  summer  day,  the  air  about  into  the  picture,  while  the  girl  only  looks 

them  breathing  sweet.     What  so  fair  as  directly  out  at  the  spectator.     Had  all 

the  blameless  pleasure  depicted  in  their  three  been  looking  out  of  the  picture,  the 

countenances?     It  is  said  that  Beechey's  sentiment  would  have  been  colder  and 

early  portraits  were  very  accurate  like-  rather  affected.     A  warm,  soft  tone  suf- 

nesses,  and  one  might  well  imagine  this  to  fuses  the  picture.     The  background,  al- 

have  been  the  case  in  the  present  instance,  ways  a  difficult  thing  to  manage  when 

though  I  should  have  wished  to  see  a  lit-  accompanying  figures,  is  here  very  suc- 

tle  more  breadth  and  lightness  to  the  fea-  cessful,  being  laid  in  with  breadth  and 

tures,  especially  to  the  mouth  of  the  little  fullness,  and  subordinated,  with  an  eye  to 

girl,  whose  face  is  otherwise  sympatheti-  the  expression  in  the  heads.     The  sculp- 

cally  animated.     The  difference  between  tured  pedestal,  upon  the  edge  of  which 

the  ages  is  well  shown.    The  boy  has  the  the  boy  is  resting,  is  a  warm  gray,  and 


SIR    WILLIAM    BEECH LY 


IO7 


this  color  floats  upward  into  the  reddish 
tones  of  the  curtain  about  the  urn ;  and 
this,  in  turn,  melts  into  the  broad,  flat  mass 
of  foliage,  that  is  of  a  brown  shade,  gray- 
ing down  lighter  where  it  meets  a  touch 
of  deep  blue  sky,  that  softens  into  warm 
gray  clouds  which  become  reddish  and 
golden  toward  the  horizon.  The  distant 
hills,  mixed  with  foliage,  are  of  a  bluish 
green  brightly  touched  with  darker  spots 
suggestive  of  shady  depths.  The  foliage 
of  the  trees  in  the  middle  distance  is 
brown  and  golden  in  the  high  lights  and 
cool  green  in  the  shadovvs;  likewise  the 
bank  which  slopes  down  to  the  stream, 
the  tone  of  whose  waters  is  scarcely  dis- 


tinguishable in  its  value  of  chiaroscuro 
from  the  brownish  gray  tone  of  the  marble 
pavement  of  the  immediate  foreground. 
The  dog  is  black  and  white.  All  these 
surroundings  make  an  agreeable  and  har- 
monious setting  for  the  figures,  the  boy 
being  clad  in  velvet  of  a  soft,  deep  tone 
of  maroon,  and  the  girl  in  white  of  a 
warm,  mellow  hue.  The  whole  gives  the 
impression  of  a  golden  summer  afternoon. 
The  canvas  hangs  in  the  long  gallery  of 
the  Louvre  at  Paris,  among  the  collection 
of  English  pictures  there.  It  measures 
three  feet  in  width  by  four  and  a  half 
feet  in  height. 

T.  C. 


SIR    HENRY   RAEBURN 


MRS.    R.    SCOTT   MONCRIEFF,    BY    SIR    HENRY    RAEBURN. 

NATIONAL   GALLERY    OF    SCOTLAND,    EDINBURGH, 


T 


CHAPTER   VIII 

SIR    HENRY    RAEBURN 

(1756-1823) 

HE  best  painter,  in  a  technical  sense,  among  all  our  so-called 
English  masters  was  not  an  Englishman,  but  a  Scotchman  — 
Sir  Henry  Raeburn.  Handling  —  the  power  to  use  the 
brush  with  certainty  and  ease  —  was  his  in  large  degree.  He 
could  hardly  be  called  an  imaginative  artist,  nor  was  he  a  drafts- 
man or  a  colorist  beyond  the  ordinary  ;  but,  in  the  Manet  sense, 
he  was  quite  a  perfect  painter.  There  are  artists  in  history  who 
seem  to  have  been  born  to  the  brush  rather  than  to  the  crayon  — 
artists  who  take  to  paint  as  instinctively  as  swans  to  water.  The 
names  of  Frans  Hals  and  Velasquez  come  to  mind  at  once  as  the 
chiefs  of  the  class ;  and  yet,  in  a  smaller  way,  Tiepolo,  Teniers, 
Goya,  and  Raeburn  were  just  as  truly  to  the  manner  born.  Wilkie, 
when  studying  Velasquez  in  Spain,  was  continually  reminded  of  the 
"square  touch"  of  Raeburn.  The  resemblance  in  method  —  in  a 
way  of  seeing  and  doing  things  —  could  not  fail  of  notice.  The 
men  were  of  the  same  brotherhood,  if  not  of  the  same  rank,  and  in 
eye  and  hand  they  were  both  preeminently  painters. 

Raeburn's  birth  and  education  throw  no  liefht  whatever  on  his 
peculiar  technical  ability.  He  sprang  from  peasant  stock,  and 
though  the  Scotch  have  always  had  fine  native  feeling  in  art  mat- 
ters, it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  one  coming  from  the  soil  could 
overcome  the  final  and  most  difficult  phase  of  the  painter's  technique 
at  the  start.  And  yet  that  is  what  Raeburn  apparently  did.  There 
is  no  record  that  he  ever  learned  facility  of  handling  from  any  one. 
He  was  virtually  self-taught.  Born  near  Edinburgh  in  1756,  he 
was  left  an  orphan,  at  six  years  of  age,  in  charge  of  an  elder 
brother.     What  his  boyhood  was  like,  what  his  early  inclinations, 


112  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

no  one  seems  to  know.  It  has  been  stated,  and  denied,  that  he 
received  an  elementary  education  at  Heriot's  school ;  but  it  seems 
well  established  that  at  fifteen  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  goldsmith 
named  Gilliland. 

In  the  goldsmith's  employ  Raeburn  developed  a  talent  for  min- 
iature-painting, and  his  master,  suspecting  an  incipient  genius,  took 
him  to  the  studio  of  David  Martin,  who  was  the  local  "  face- 
painter  "  for  Edinburgh  at  that  time.  Martin  seems  to  have  encour- 
aged the  youth  and  given  him  some  of  his  own  portraits  to  copy ; 
but  they  soon  quarreled, —  as  is  the  not  infrequent  habit  of  master 
and  pupil, —  and  what  instruction  the  young  man  had  received 
is  unknown.  Martin  could  scarcely  have  taught  more  than  he  him- 
self knew,  and  that  was  little.  Nor  does  it  appear  that  any  after 
instruction  came  to  Raeburn.  There  was  no  other  painter  in  Edin- 
burgh at  that  time  to  teach  him,  and  he  did  not  leave  the  town 
until  both  his  style  and  his  reputation  were  in  a  measure  estab- 
lished. Then  he  married  a  young  widow  with  something  of  a  for- 
tune, and  about  1 785  went  up  to  London,  and  met  Sir  Joshua.  It 
is  said  that  in  London  Raeburn  worked  in  Sir  Joshua's  "  paint- 
ing-room "  for  a  couple  of  months.  The  statement  is  questioned, 
though  the  painter  certainly  was  not  slow  in  adopting  such  methods 
of  composition  from  the  older  man  as  he  thought  serviceable.  He 
also  helped  himself  to  something  of  Sir  Joshua's  color  and  light, 
besides  sundry  methods  of  mixing  and  laying  colors  that  brought 
to  his  canvases  more  harm  than  good.  And  Reynolds  was  very 
gracious  to  the  young  Scotchman.  He  advised  him  to  go  to  Rome, 
and,  of  course,  recommended  a  study  of  Michelangelo,  with  whose 
work  Raeburn  could  have  had  little  or  no  sympathy. 

It  is  said  that  Sir  Joshua,  not  knowing  the  young  painter's  easy 
circumstances  through  marriage  (an  ignorance  which  would  argue 
against  the  "  painting-room  "  story),  generously  offered  him  money 
and  letters  of  introduction  to  painters  in  Rome.  Raeburn  accepted 
the  letters,  went  to  Rome,  and  remained  there  two  years.  He 
seems  to  have  brought  back  with  him  some  advice,  got  from  an 
art-dealer  by  the  name  of  Byers,  which  he  spoke  of  frequently  as 
being  of  great  service  to  him.  The  advice  was  cheap,  and  at  this 
day  is  quite  hackneyed.  It  was,  in  substance,  to  work  from  the 
model,  and  not  from  memory.  This  was  Raeburn's  natural  inclina- 
tion, and  of  course  he  fell  in  with  it.  There  is  no  trace  in  his 
painting  that  he  brought  back  anything  else  from  Rome.     He  must 


SIR    HENRY    RAEBURN  I  13 

have  known  Pompeo  Batoni,  to  whom  he  took  letters  of  introduc- 
tion from  Sir  Joshua,  and  he  must  have  met  the  Roman  painters  of 
the  day  ;  but  they  did  not  seem  to  leave  any  impression  upon  his  art. 

As  for  the  old  masters,  they  never  persuaded  him,  never  made 
a  dent  of  any  kind  in  his  Scotch  nature.  Michelangelo's  fres- 
cos in  the  Sistine  he  could  doubtless  admire  without  ever  wishing 
to  emulate,  and  a  complicated  piece  of  line  and  composition  like 
Raphael's  "  Transfiguration  "  must  have  produced  either  opposition 
or  weariness.  For  what  were  all  the  fine  linear  drawings  of  the 
Vatican  to  one  whose  eyes  were  focused  to  see  in  patched  bulk 
rather  than  in  sharp  outline  ?  What  were  the  thin  fields  of  color 
used  by  the  Florentines  to  one  who  could  work  to  advantage  only 
with  a  heavily  loaded  brush?  One  portrait  by  Velasquez  —  say 
the  "Innocent  X"  in  the  Doria  Gallery  —  were  worth  them  all. 
Raeburn  may  have  seen  this  portrait ;  he  may  have  seen  Venetian, 
French,  even  Dutch  painting  at  Rome,  for  that  city  has  always 
been  a  great  depot  of  art:  but  there  is  no  tale  in  his  life,  nor  trace 
in  his  art,  of  influences  from  these  quarters.  The  simple  Scot  came 
home  to  Edinburgh,  and,  barring  some  acquired  facility  and  a  slight 
tendency  to  pay  tribute  to  Sir  Joshua's  point  of  view,  painted  his 
portraits  in  the  old  way. 

When  Raeburn  returned  to  Edinburgh  in  1787  he  soon  estab- 
lished himself  as  the  first  portrait-painter  in  Scotland.  For  thirty 
years  his  social  and  artistic  success  was  unbroken.  In  that  time  his 
brush  had  been  employed  in  painting  many  famous  Scotsmen,  char- 
acters like  Blair,  Erskine,  Mackenzie,  Robertson,  Wilson,  Dugald 
Stewart.  He  painted  Scott  several  times,  and  quite  captured  the 
bard's  admiration  as  he  painted  and  walked  backward  and  forward 
from  the  easel.  Sir  Walter  did  not  care  for  the  likeness,  and  after- 
ward declared  that  the  painter  had  made  a  "  chowder-headed 
person"  of  him;  but  he  liked  the  personality  of  the  painter,  and 
wrote  about  him  with  some  enthusiasm.  At  one  time  Raeburn 
contemplated  moving  up  to  London ;  but  Lawrence  persuaded  him 
that  it  was  better  to  be  the  Scottish  Reynolds  in  Edinburgh  than 
plain  Raeburn  in  London.  He  visited  London  only  a  few  times, 
and  it  was  not  until  18 14  that  he  began  sending  portraits  to  the 
Royal  Academy  for  exhibition.  He  was  then  elected  an  associate, 
and  the  next  year  an  academician. 

In  1822,  when  George  IV  was  in  Edinburgh,  it  is  said  that  Sir 
Walter  persuaded  the  king  to  honor  Raeburn.     At  any  rate,  the 


114  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

distinction  of  knighthood  was  conferred  upon  the  painter,  and 
shortly  afterward  he  was  made  "  his  Majesty's  limner  and  painter 
for  Scotland  " ;  but  he  did  not  live  long  enough  to  enjoy  the  office. 
After  a  week's  illness,  he  died  July  8,  1823,  leaving  as  the  last 
work  upon  his  easel  a  portrait  of  Scott.  In  addition  to  being  a 
member  of  many  foreign  art  societies,  he  had  been  president  of  the 
Society  of  Artists  in  Scotland,  and  had  received  honors  even  from 
far-away  America.  During  his  life  he  had  painted  some  six  hun- 
dred portraits,  which  is  a  goodly  number  to  come  from  the  brush 
of  a  man  who  employed  no  assistants  and  did  every  bit  of  work  on 
a  picture  from  start  to  finish.  In  1876  three  hundred  of  his  works 
were  gathered  together  in  the  rooms  of  the  Royal  Scottish  Acad- 
emy. It  was  a  memorable  exhibition,  and  emphasized  anew  the 
sterling  quality  of  the  man  and  his  work. 

Considering  the  lack  of  technical  education,  Raeburn's  art 
seems  little  less  than  astonishing.  He  achieved  almost  at  the  start, 
and  apparently  without  effort,  those  qualities  of  simplicity  and 
directness  which  many  painters  struggle  for  all  their  lives,  and  then 
often  fall  short  of  attaining.  It  was  not  only  that  he  was  able  to 
paint  simply,  but  he  saw  things  simply,  to  begin  with.  And  yet  it  re- 
mains to  be  said  that  both  his  range  and  his  success  were  limited.  The 
problem  he  undertook  was  not  complex.  He  made  few  sallies  into 
the  domain  of  historical  painting,  and  he  knew  nothing  about  dec- 
orative composition.  He  was  a  portrait-painter,  and  as  such  saw 
little  more  than  the  human  face.  He  did  not  allow  himself  to  be 
bothered  to  any  great  extent  with  color  schemes  or  complicated 
picture-planes  or  extravagant  settings.  When  he  tried  to  compose 
he  generally  failed.  By  his  own  confession,  a  head  was  much  easier 
for  him  to  paint  than  a  piece  of  drapery.  He  stumbled  over  acces- 
sory objects,  often  slurred  them,  and  even  his  countryman  the 
Duke  of  Buccleugh  complained  of  his  carelessness  in  painting 
hands.  It  is  probable  that  he  cared  little  for  them.  His  first  and 
last  thought  was  the  head,  and  his  painter's  eye  was  drawn  by  the 
expressive  features. 

In  giving  the  characteristic  look  of  his  sitter  he  was  usually 
successful;  but  when  he  went  further,  and  tried  to  give  the  whole- 
length  portrait  in  landscape  or  with  elaborate  background,  he  was 
not  so  happy.  The  attributed  "Lady  in  White,"  in  the  National 
Gallery,  London,  done  after  the  Reynolds  formula,  is  somewhat 
heavy  in  spirit  and  flat  in  handling;  his  "  Professor  John  Wilson," 


PORTRAIT   OF    LORD    NEWTON,    BY   SIR    HENRY   RAEBURN. 

NATIONAL    GALLERY   OF    SCOTLAND,    EDINBURGH. 


SIR    HENRY    RAEBURN  I  1 5 

standing  beside  his  horse,  in  the  Scottish  Portrait  Gallery,  is  weak  ; 
his  "  Niel  Gow,"  in  Highland  costume,  with  a  violin,  comes  peril- 
ously near  the  bizarre.  Given  the  bust  portrait,  and  he  could,  at 
times,  render  it  with  great  force.  Nothing  could  be  better  of  its 
kind  than  the  portrait  of  Lord  Newton  that  Mr.  Cole  has  engraved. 
In  giving  the  physical  presence  Frans  Hals  could  not  have  gone 
beyond  it.  The  portrait  of  Dr.  Adam,  hanging  near  the  "  Lord 
Newton  "  in  the  National  Gallery,  Edinburgh,  has  the  same  quali- 
ties of  structure,  and  is  struck  off  with  the  same  square  touch. 
Both  portraits  are  quite  perfect  in  their  way. 

These  heads  show  Raeburn  in  his  most  energetic  style — in 
fact,  his  best  style.  He  could  not  always  reach  up  to  it,  and  with 
portraits  of  women  he  frequently  fell  below  it.  He  never  quite 
understood  the  "eternal  womanly";  and  the  gaiety  and  coquetry 
of  the  sex  made  no  such  appeal  to  him  as  to  Reynolds  and  Romney. 
A  somewhat  matter-of-fact  Scotchman,  large-framed  and  athletic, 
fond  of  outdoor  games,  machinery,  shipbuilding, — all  strong,  mus- 
cular pursuits, — he  naturally  sympathized  with  the  powerful,  and 
preferred  the  masculine  to  the  feminine  type.  But  he  was  not 
wholly  indifferent  to  womanly  grace  and  charm,  and  in  such  por- 
traits as  those  of  Mrs.  Scott  Moncrieff,  Mrs.  Bell,  and  his  own 
wife  he  showed  refinement,  delicacy,  and  not  a  little  sense  of 
beauty. 

These  portraits  are  given,  however,  with  less  pronounced  model- 
ing than  shows  in  his  portraits  of  men,  and  with  the  surfaces  rubbed 
smooth.  His  concession  to  Sir  Joshua  was  more  marked  just  here 
than  elsewhere.  His  fair  women  hardly  suggest  an  individual  point 
of  view,  and  one  gains  the  impression  that  the  painter  is  somehow 
following  the  Reynolds  pattern — working  with  intelligence  and  skill, 
but  without  enthusiasm  or  conviction.  The  graceful  contours  and 
elaborate  costume  of  a  duchess  were  not  to  his  fancy,  as  compared 
with  the  rugged  features  and  the  strong  flesh-notes  of  a  well-fed 
judge  or  a  Scotch  landlord. 

One  cannot  imagine  a  head  like  that  of  the  "  Lord  Newton  " 
having  been  first  drawn  with  chalk  or  coal.  It  must  have  been 
painted,  like  so  many  of  the  heads  by  Frans  Hals,  with  a  full  brush 
and  a  free  hand.  And  that  was  Raeburn's  way  of  working.  He 
used  the  brush  from  the  start,  drawing  and  modeling  with  it,  rely- 
ing upon  it  for  everything,  and  finishing  a  portrait  with  it  in  four 
or  five  sittings.     Absolute  accuracy  did  not  always  accompany  his 


Il6  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

facility;  but  bulk,  weight,  character, —  in  short,  the  personal  pres- 
ence,—  were  almost  always  given  in  a  positive  manner.  Unfortu- 
nately Raeburn  was  fond  of  bitumen  (something  he  may  have  heard 
of  from  Sir  Joshua),  and  he  employed  that  painter's  plague  not  a 
little  in  his  shadows.  The  results  were,  of  course,  disastrous. 
To-day  the  forehead  curls  in  the  portrait  of  Mrs.  Scott  Moncrieff 
have  nearly  slipped  over  the  eyes  from  having  been  underbased 
in  treacherous  bitumen.  The  head  of  the  "  Lord  Newton "  has 
suffered  in  the  shadows  from  a  like  cause.  Raeburn  did  not  use  it 
invariably,  and  some  of  his  portraits,  like  that  of  the  Rev.  John 
Home,  in  the  National  Portrait  Gallery  in  London,  are  sound  in 
every  respect,  and  models  of  good  craftsmanship. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  Raeburn's  art,  aside  from  his 
simple  point  of  view,  his  grasp  of  the  portrait  presence,  and  his 
mastery  of  the  brush.  He  had  little  subtlety,  shrewdness,  or  depth; 
little  decorative  sense  in  either  line  or  color.  His  coloring  was 
sober,  often  somber ;  or,  if  brilliant,  it  was  shrill,  or  perhaps  false 
in  its  lighting.  Tone  was  a  feature  he  never  quite  mastered,  and 
atmosphere  bothered  him  whenever  he  tried  to  give  a  naturalistic 
background.  He  lacked  knowledge  of  the  aerial  envelop,  just  as 
he  failed  in  the  perception  of  the  relation  of  objects  one  to  another. 
The  isolated  face  and  figure  he  did  very  well,  but  the  grouped  or 
related  figure  baffled  him. 

He  had  several  different  styles  of  working,  but  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  give  them  in  order,  for  he  never  kept  a  record  of  his 
sitters  or  dated  his  canvases.  It  seems  that  at  first  he  was  timid 
and  tentative,  employing  his  early  miniature  methods  upon  an  en- 
larged scale.  Then  he  grew  broader  and  freer,  developing  a 
robust  manner,  resembling  at  times  that  of  an  American  painter, — 
Gilbert  Stuart.  It  seems  that  finally,  following  Reynolds  or  Law- 
rence, he  painted  with  a  smoother  and  a  weaker  brush.  His 
method  of  handling  must  always  have  an  interest  for  people  of  the 
craft ;  but  to  the  public,  that  cares  little  about  methods,  he  has 
been,  and  will  doubtless  continue  to  be,  simply  a  good  painter 
with  limitations.  He  did  not  illustrate  history  or  poetry,  and  had 
nothing  to  do  with  figures  in  group  or  tales  in  paint.  He  was  only 
a  portrait-painter,  and  even  in  that  department  he  was  more  of  a 
skilled  craftsman  than  a  creative  artist.  As  a  craftsman  he  had  no 
rival  in  his  age  and  country,  and  to  this  day  Scotland  is  looking  for 
his  superior. 


SIR    IIKN'RY    RAEBURN 


II7 


NOTES    BY    THE    ENGRAVER 


IT  is  to  Edinburgh  one  must  go  to  see 
Raeburn,  where,  at  the  National  Gal- 
lery of  Scotland,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be 
instantly  impressed  with  his  force  and 
superiority  as  a  portrait-painter.  It  is  in 
the  vigor  of  his  light  and  shade,  and  the 
noble  conception  and  large  presentment 
of  his  subject, —  "  the  simple  and  powerful 
treatment,"  as  Wilkie  expressed  it, — 
rather  than  in  any  minor  resemblance  of 
peculiarity  of  touch,  that  Raeburn  may  be 
said  to  possess  something  in  common 
with  Velasquez.  Should,  however,  the 
experiment  be  made  of  placing  these 
masters  side  by  side,  it  would  be  seen 
that  the  simplicity  of  the  Scotchman 
lacked  the  subtlety  of  the  Spaniard,  and 
that  his  "  powerful  mode  of  treatment " 
would  have  much  that  was  coarse  and 
bald  and  harsh  about  it. 

However  this  may  be,  it  in  no  way  dis- 
turbs or  mitigates  our  appreciation  and 
enjoyment  of  such  splendid  work  as  the 
portrait  of  Lord  Newton  —  a  law  lord, 
by  the  way  —  or  the  more  charming  and 
delectable  "  Mrs.  Scott  Moncrieff."  What 
a  contrast  these  two  busts  present  to  each 
other,  in  the  virile  quality  of  the  man  and 
the  loveliness  of  the  woman !  How 
grandly  the  former  fills  the  canvas !  The 
sweeping  line  which  the  shoulders  make 
from  one  end  of  the  picture  to  the  other 
is  not  to  be  surpassed  in  its  suggestion  of 
dignity  by  anything  in  the  British  school. 
As  a  representative  of  the  bar,  this  "  bluff 
bulk  of  beef  and  beer,"  as  it  has  been  un- 
sympathetically  termed,  may  be  said 
rather  to  embody  in  its  ponderous  per- 
sonality the  weight  and  gravity  of  the 
law.  Clad  in  his  red  robe  of  office  and 
white  wig,  we  may  behold  in  this  Lord 
of  Session, —  in    his    ample   and   visible 


capacity  for  thought,  and  impressive 
probity  of  mien,  his  character  of  assur- 
ance and  moral  solidity, —  not  a  "  bluff 
bulk  of  beef  and  beer,"  but  rather  tomes, 
and  statutes,  and  canons,  and  thick-ribbed 
volumes  of  the  Corpus  Juris. 

Charles  Hay  of  Newton,  near  Glasgow, 
was  born  in  1740,  and  was  called  to  the 
bar  when  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  He 
became  a  Lord  of  Session  in  1806,  and 
died  in  181 1.  The  bust,  painted  on  can- 
vas, is  twenty-five  inches  wide  by  thirty 
inches  high,  and  hangs  in  the  National 
Gallery  at  Edinburgh.  The  red  robe  is 
not  agreeable  in  color,  being  poor,  dull, 
and  bricky.  The  background  is  very 
dark  brownish  and  rich.  The  flesh-tones 
are  vivacious  and  of  good  quality.  The 
light,  concentrated  strongly  upon  the  head 
and  upper  portions  of  the  body,  fades 
gently  and  rapidly  toward  the  lower  por- 
tion, leaving  its  forms  softened  in  the 
obscurity.  Raeburn  had  a  decisive  and 
vigorous  manner  of  blocking  out  his 
masses  in  a  head,  and  his  clear-cut  and 
well-defined  faces  have  a  captivating 
freshness  of  handling  and  color  that  holds 
the  attention  with  interest  and  pleasure. 

The  portrait  of  Mrs.  Scott  Moncrieff — 
one  of  the  gems  of  the  National  Gallery 
of  Edinburgh  —  ranks  among  the  great- 
est examples  of  English  portraiture.  It 
is  Cunningham  who,  in  his  "  British 
Painters,"  commenting  upon  the  common 
sense  of  Raeburn  in  painting  only  the 
heads  of  the  illustrious  people  of  his  day, 
makes  the  gloomy  reflection,  discourag- 
ing to  the  artist  plodding  after  perfection, 
that  "  hundreds  of  heads  exquisite  in 
character  and  color  are  manufactured 
annually,  only  to  sink,  with  all  their  fine 
art,  into  oblivion ;  while  the  portraits  of 


n8 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


the  heirs  of  fame  are  treasured  and  prized 
without  much  reference  to  the  merits  of 
outline  and  color." 

Now  if  this  head  of  Mrs.  Scott  Mon- 
crieff  were  an  example  of  the  hundreds 
of  exquisite  things  which  have  disap- 
peared into  oblivion,  it  were  indeed  sad 
to  think  of.  But  the  army  of  connois- 
seurs, lovers  of  art,  antiquarians,  and 
dealers,  always  on  the  scent  for  rare 
things,  makes  it  well-nigh  impossible  for 
even  a  single  work  of  genius  to  remain 
very  long  hidden  away  from  the  light  of 
general  recognition.  And  who  was  Mrs. 
Scott  Moncrieff,  that  we  should  think  bet- 
ter of  her  portrait  because  of  her  name, 
that  we  should  value  her  portrait  more 
on  account  of  its  art  qualities,  than  whole 
galleries  of  antiquated  physiognomies  of 
past  worthies  that  have  little  to  commend 
them  beyond  the  names  with  which  they 
are  ticketed  ? 

This  lady's  maiden  name  was  Marga- 
ritta  Macdonald.  Wife  of  Mr.  Scott  Mon- 
crieff, she  afterward  became  Mrs.  Scott 
Moncrieff  Wellwood.  The  supreme 
charm  of  the  head,  to  my  thinking,  is  the 
unconscious  grace  of  mind  that  enwraps 
it,  the  perfect  ease  and  unaffected  simpli- 
city of  good  sense  which  it  embodies. 
This  is  its  first  adornment.  Though  there 
is  charming  physical  beauty,  it  is  yet  sub- 
servient to  moral  expression.  The  large, 
full,  beautifully  proportioned  features  are 
delicately  modeled,  and  there  is  light  in 
them;  that  is,  they  are  in  just  value  with 
relation  to  the  broad  mass  of  the  light  on 
the  face.  It  is  a  very  common  thing  to 
see  eyes,  nostrils,  and  mouths  forced 
up  darker  than  they  should  be  in  por- 
traits ;  and  this  always,  instead  of  con- 
tributing force  to  the  face,  robs  it  of 
refinement.  There  is  atmosphere  here 
also;  the  features  are  not  cut  up  by  de- 
fined lines  drawn  about  them,  but  repose 
is  secured  and  fullness  given  by  the 
breadth  of  the  masses  and  the  softness 
of  the  contours ;  and  a  sense  of  intimacy 


is  secured  by  the  subtle  gradation  of  its 
tones.  The  aerial  softness  that  envelops 
it  is  vital  to  the  sweetness  of  the  senti- 
ment in  which  it  is  steeped;  and  this, 
again,  exists  only  by  virtue  of  the  flatness 
and  suavity  of  its  entire  surface ;  for  let 
any  one  of  its  details  be  tightened  or  the 
nuancing  of  any  of  its  accents  missed 
through  inattention  to  the  flatness  of  the 
tones,  and  spottiness  at  once  ensues, 
with  consequent  loss  of  expression  and 
repose. 

The  whole  treatment  of  this  beautiful 
canvas  is  different  from  the  majority  of 
Raeburn's  works.  It  conveys  no  sense 
of  direct  handling.  It  is  more  subtle, 
flatter,  and  more  smoothly  painted ;  the 
evidences  of  its  workmanship  are  not 
apparent.  As  may  be  imagined,  the 
coloring  is  very  simple.  The  background 
is  of  bituminous  depth  and  richness.  It 
is,  however,  owing  to  the  treacherous 
medium  employed,  dreadfully  cracked 
and  frizzled,  and  this  makes  it  impossible 
to  photograph  well.  The  other  parts  are 
not  affected  this  way,  and  are  compara- 
tively well  preserved.  The  coloring  of 
the  flesh  has  yellowed,  somewhat  disa- 
greeably, by  time.  The  low,  square-cut 
gown  of  white  silk  of  mellow  hue  is 
mounted  by  a  red  cloak  thrown  loosely 
about  the  shoulders  and  caught  together 
again  below  the  waist.  This  is  not  of  a 
pleasing  color,  being  of  the  same  tone  as 
the  robe  of  Lord  Newton,  and  does  not 
accord  with  the  charming  sentiment  of 
its  chiaroscuro.  The  canvas  measures 
thirty  inches  high  by  twenty-five  inches 
wide. 

In  Raeburn's  time  the  custom  had  not 
entirely  disappeared  of  announcing  all 
likenesses  as  portraits  of  ladies  or  gentle- 
men merely,  and  this  usage  was  main- 
tained even  in  the  catalogues  of  exhibi- 
tions; so  that  it  was  easy  to  lose  track 
of  the  names  of  the  individuals  they  rep- 
resented. But  this  practice  began  to  be 
changed  in  1798,  when  the  better  fashion 


P0RTRAT1     "I     A    I   VMV,    BY    SIR    HENRY    RAEBURN. 

.     [ONAL   GALLERY  ,    I  i  >NDi  »K 


SIR    IIKNRY    RAI'HURN 


I  Ii 


came  into  vogue  of  affixing  the  full  names 
and  titles  of  the  various  "  ladies "  and 
"gentlemen"  to  their  paintings.  All  we 
know  of  the  "  Lady  in  White  "  by  Rae- 
burn  is  that  she  was  a  member  of  the 
Dudgeon  family,  and  that  the  picture 
was  bequeathed  to  the  National  Gallery 
of  London,  where  it  now  hangs,  by  Rob- 
ert Dudgeon,  Esq.,  in  1883.  It  is  on 
canvas,  life-sized,  and  measures  seven  feet 
nine  and  a  half  inches  high  by  four  feet 
eleven  inches  wide. 

The  picture  is  very  well  preserved, 
and  is  a  capital  rendering  of  white.  It 
will  be  seen  that  the  lightest  spot  is  in  the 
ribbon  that  binds  the  crown  of  the  straw 
hat,  though  its  local  color  is  gray.  It 
catches  the  light  with  a  sheen,  and  shines 
with  a  higher  note  in  the  general  chia- 
roscuro than  the  lightest  portion  of  the 
white  dress.  This  is  a  device  in  the 
scheme  of  its  lighting  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion to  the  head,  where  also,  in  the  hair 
of  the  lady,  is  the  strongest  dark  in  the 
picture,  which  is  valuable  in  serving  a  like 
purpose.  The  light  strikes  the  upper 
half  of  the  figure,  skimming  gently  down, 
fading  and  graying  by  the  contours  in- 
sensibly into  the  depths  of  the  warm  tones 
of  the  background.  There  is  an  orange- 
colored  scarf  about  the  waist,  grayed  into 
harmony   with  the   mellow  tone  of  the 


white  dress  and  with  the  cream-colored 
shawl  that  hangs  over  the  left  arm.  The 
lady  leans  against  a  monument  or  pedestal 
in  a  grove  of  young  beech-trees,  the  ar- 
rangement of  whose  upright  trunks  is 
discreetly  broken  by  one  slanting  across. 
The  whole  tone  of  the  background,  in- 
cluding the  pedestal,  is  rich  and  tender 
with  delicate  grays,  greenish  and  brownish 
depths,  with  golden  touches  in  the  glimpse 
of  sky  seen  through  the  trees  toward  the 
horizon  ;  there  are  no  distracting  holes  in 
the  darker  depths  of  the  foliage,  but  all 
is  softened,  broadened,  flattened,  and 
bathed  in  atmosphere,  with  an  eye  to  the 
object  of  main  interest  —  all  serving  to 
enhance  the  illuminated  figure  and  to  set 
off  the  portrait  with  vigor  and  effect. 
The  composition  of  the  whole  is  success- 
ful, and  although  conventional  in  its 
adaptation  of  the  landscape  to  the  figure, 
and  in  its  lighting,  it  yet  shows  an  im- 
provement upon  many,  if  not  the  major- 
ity, of  contemporary  canvases  of  the  like 
nature  in  the  fact  that  more  foreground 
is  shown ;  the  figure  is  not  brought  down 
to  the  very  edge  of  the  canvas,  but  is 
placed  more  agreeably  back  in  the  pic- 
ture. This  work  has  nothing  of  the 
spirited  handling  that  we  are  accustomed 
to  see  in  the  greater  number  of  Raeburn's 


paintings. 


T.  C. 


JOHN    OPIE 


CHAPTER   IX 

JOHN    OI'IE 
(1761-1807) 

IN  Sir  Joshua's  day  fashionable  London  was  subject  to  all  sorts 
of  crazes.  Some  new  comet  shot  across  the  sky  each  week. 
The  "  beautiful  Misses  Gunning,"  who  were  so  successfully 
married,  were  not  more  of  a  furor  than  the  beautiful  Misses  Jefferies 
and  Blandy,  who  were  so  successfully  hanged.  Parsees  and  Brah- 
mans  came  from  the  East,  and  Cherokees  from  the  West,  to  say 
nothing  of  celebrities  from  the  Continent,  all  to  have  their  little 
day  at  Almack's  with  poets,  painters,  opera-singers,  and  other  peo- 
ple suddenly  become  famous.  Of  course  all  the  English  provinces 
sent  prodigies  of  wit  or  beauty  to  the  metropolis,  and  even  far-off 
Cornwall  sent  a  boy  painter.  John  Opie  was  his  name.  He  was 
called  the  "  Cornish  Wonder,"  and  he  lasted  for  more  than  nine 
days. 

Opie  was  born  at  St.  Agnes,  near  Truro,  and  was  the  son  of  a 
carpenter.  Like  most  of  the  English  painters,  he  seems  to  have 
met  with  family  discouragement  in  the  matter  of  taking  up  art  as  a 
profession.  But  Opie  insisted  upon  picture-making  at  the  expense 
of  carpentry,  and  was  soon  painting  country  lords  and  local  folk  at 
half  a  guinea  a  head.  Dr.  Wolcott  (a  writer  known  to  fame  as 
"Peter  Pindar")  was  the  first  one  to  discover  the  young  man's 
talent,  and  he  not  only  gave  him  good  advice,  but  took  him  into  his 
house  and  provided  him  with  money.  In  1779  Opie  and  Wolcott 
went  to  Falmouth  to  improve  their  joint  prospects,  and  a  year 
or  more  afterward  they  went  up  to  London.  It  seems  that  Wol- 
cott, according  to  his  own  tale,  had  lost  considerable  money  by  the 
change  of  scene,  and  he  entered  into  a  written  agreement  with  Opie 
that  thereafter  they  should  share  fortune  alike,  Opie  to  work  with 

123 


124  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

his  brush  and  Wolcott  to  point  out  his  wonderfulness  with  pen  and 
tongue.  The  doctor  certainly  seems  to  have  upheld  his  end  of  the 
bargain.  Through  Mrs.  Boscawen,  widow  of  Admiral  Boscawen, 
he  had  Opie  introduced  at  court.  The  king  bought  a  picture,  and 
commissions  for  portraits  speedily  followed  from  the  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Gloucester,  Lady  Salisbury,  Lady  Harcourt,  and  others. 
In  addition,  whenever  the  doctor  dropped  into  poetry  he  had  fine 
things  to  say  about  the  prodigy.  The  gentle  art  of  "booming" 
seemed  easier  in  those  days  than  in  these,  and  a  sonnet  to  a  friend 
or  an  ode  to  the  moon  might  contain  an  accidental  allusion  such  as 

this: 

Speak,  Muse.     Who  formed  that  matchless  head, 
The  Cornish  boy,  in  tin-mines  bred, 
Whose  native  genius,  like  her  diamonds,  shone 
In  secret,  till  chance  gave  them  to  the  sun  ? 

How  the  "  Cornish  boy"  kept  his  part  of  the  agreement  we  do  not 
know;  but  Wolcott  says  that,  after  a  year  of  the  partnership,  "my 
pupil  told  me  I  could  return  to  the  country,  as  he  could  now  do  for 
himself." 

But  the  doctor  had  already  pushed  the  Wonder  into  notice. 
Reynolds  had  commended  his  work,  and  declared  it  like  Caravaggio 
and  Velasquez  in  one,  and  Walpole  had  ventured  to  say  it  was  very 
like  Rembrandt.  When  the  young  man  met  favor  at  court  commis- 
sions came  to  him  in  a  swarm,  and  a  mob  of  fashionables  went  daft 
over  his  heads  of  beggars.  The  rage  was  violent  while  it  lasted. 
Its  subsidence  was  violent  too,  but  it  did  not  leave  Opie  totally 
neglected ;  some  friends  stood  by  him.  He  was  a  faithful  worker, 
and  he  went  on  painting  portraits  with  unabated  energy.  All  his 
life  he  was  a  student,  and  in  the  end  he  became  a  painter  of  force 
and  considerable  invention.  He  was  elected  a  Royal  Academician, 
and  in  1805  he  was  the  Academy's  professor  of  painting,  delivering 
several  rather  remarkable  discourses  after  the  Reynolds  initiative. 
In  1807,  when  he  passed  away,  he  was  still,  comparatively  speak- 
ing, a  young  man,  and  yet  he  left  as  the  result  of  his  industry  and 
perseverance  some  five  hundred  portraits  and  about  two  hundred 
and  fifty  compositions  —  historical  and  otherwise.  He  was  married 
twice,  the  second  Mrs.  Opie  being  the  novelist  over  whose  produc- 
tions our  grandmothers  shed  some  intermittent  tears  in  the  years 
past. 

From  the  beginning  Opie  seems  to  have  been  an  original  char- 


JOHN    OPIE  125 

acter,  following  a  path  of  his  own  with  sincerity  and  belief.  He 
had  qualities  that,  under  different  circumstances  of  birth  and  educa- 
tion, might  have  proved  him  a  genius  in  art,  but  unfortunately  his 
insufficient  training  never  allowed  him  full  expression.  He  worked 
within  cramped  boundaries,  and  was  at  his  best  in  simple  prob- 
lems like  that  of  painting  a  portrait  head.  To  be  sure,  he  was 
always  breaking  through  the  boundaries  into  the  field  of  historical 
painting;  but  it  was  with  no  great  pictorial  result.  His  Shak- 
sperian  compositions  are  heavy  and  uninteresting,  or  they  are  the- 
atrical. It  was  from  the  theater  and  its  stage  setting  that  most  of 
the  painters  got  their  compositions,  and  Opie  was  no  exception  in 
that  respect.  History  in  his  hands  fared  little  better  than  Shak- 
spere.  In  the  "  Death  of  Becket"  the  murderers  are  clubbing  and 
stabbing  the  archbishop  as  though  he  were  a  mad  dog ;  the 
figure  in  the  "  Joan  of  Arc  Proclaiming  her  Mission  "  rages  like  a 
maniac  in  a  cell;  and  the  "  Murder  of  James  I  of  Scotland,"  the 
"  Murder  of  Rizzio,"  the  "  Beheading  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,"  are 
all  somewhat  violent.  Possibly  the  pictures  are  true  enough  to 
fact,  but  they  are  not  true  to  art.  There  is  some  need  of  restraint 
even  in  the  very  whirlwind  of  passion.  But  then  Opie  was  not  a 
historical  painter.  The  only  man  in  the  English  school  who  knew 
enough  about  grouping  figures  in  the  historical  canvas  to  make  a 
composition  was  Etty,  and  the  only  painter  of  genre  who  knew  how 
to  put  figures  together  with  pictorial  grace  and  charm  and  a  lively 
sense  of  color  was  Stothard.  Of  course  both  Etty  and  Stothard 
had  their  defects  of  craftsmanship,  but  at  least  they  had  the  right 
point  of  view. 

As  a  portrait-painter  Opie  was  something  of  a  success  because 
of  his  singleness  of  purpose  and  directness  of  method.  He  tried  to 
paint  exactly  what  was  before  him,  without  pretension  or  distortion. 
Moreover,  he  flattered  no  one,  cultivated  no  type,  and  never  tried 
to  improve  upon  nature.  There  is  a  natural  air  and  a  personality 
about  all  of  his  sitters.  Even  the  "  Portrait  of  a  Boy"  in  the  Na- 
tional Gallery,  which  looks  so  poetic  in  the  eyes  and  in  the  inclina- 
tion of  the  head,  is  not  an  "  ideal,"  not  a  type,  by  any  means.  It  is 
a  portrait  painted  from  life  rather  than  a  form  seen  in  the  imagina- 
tion. Then,  too,  there  are  no  painter's  artifices  —  petty  little  plays 
for  effect  —  about  Opie's  work.  His  manner  of  seeing  things  is  very 
simple,  and  the  workmanship  corresponds  to  the  view.  The  im- 
pression gained  from  his  portraits  is  that  the  large  truths  of  the 


126  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

personal  presence  are  there  —  placed  there  as  accurately  as  the 
painter's  craftsmanship  would  allow. 

How  or  where  Opie  got  his  craftsmanship  would  be  difficult  to 
say.  The  Royal  Academy  may  have  taught  him  something,  but 
without  doubt  most  of  his  method  was  of  his  own  invention.  There 
is  nothing  to  indicate  whence  he  got  the  bent  toward  broad  masses 
of  light  and  shade  which  Benjamin  West  so  much  admired.  It  is 
easy  to  say  that  he  was  influenced  by  Rembrandt  and  Caravaggio, 
but  there  is  no  record  that  he  knew  anything  about  either  of  these 
painters.  Indeed,  it  is  more  reasonable  to  assume  that  his  hand 
was  rather  coarse  by  nature,  and  that  he  painted  in  broad  masses 
because  he  had  not  the  delicacy  to  paint  otherwise.  He  never  at 
any  time  approximated  a  worker  in  cloisonne.  His  line  was  heavy, 
with  little  grace  about  it,  his  contours  were  square-turned,  his  light 
was  wanting  in  subtlety,  and  his  surfaces  were  rough  and  "  painty." 
Yet  perhaps  these  very  defects  made  up  his  predominating  feature 
—  strength.  The  simplicity  of  the  means  gave  the  feeling  of  rugged 
power.  Its  resemblance  to  the  strength  of  Velasquez,  however, 
was  entirely  superficial.  Opie  was  only  a  tyro  with  the  brush 
where  Velasquez  was  a  passed  master.  There  was  a  certain  art- 
lessness  about  his  art  that  gave  it  an  original  force,  and  some  of 
his  most  striking  effects,  if  closely  examined,  will  be  found  to  result 
from  untutored  simplicity. 

Opie's  success,  however,  is  not  to  be  belittled.  He  could  paint 
portraits,  if  not  compositions,  and  some  of  his  somber  heads  (for  he 
was  not  brilliant  in  color  or  light)  will  hold  their  own  with  the 
Hoppners,  the  Romneys,  and  even  the  Lawrences.  The  portrait 
(supposed  to  be  that  of  Mary  Wollstonecraft,  the  wife  of  William 
Godwin  and  mother  of  the  second  Mrs.  Shelley)  which  Mr.  Cole 
has  engraved  is  one  of  the  best  known  of  his  works  and  is  a  most 
interesting  character  study.  The  reverie  in  which  the  subject 
seems  steeped  is  well  given,  and  both  face  and  figure  are  seen  and 
painted  in  a  large  way.  The  portrait  of  Mrs.  Opie,  in  the  National 
Portrait  Gallery,  is  a  little  hard  and  smooth,  but  by  no  means  want- 
ing in  attractiveness.  Unfortunately  the  painter  is  not  seen  to  ad- 
vantage in  the  majority  of  his  portraits  in  this  gallery.  The  idea 
of  Opie  which  one  gathers  from  them  is  not  entirely  accurate.  He 
was  not  a  painter  of  many  accomplishments,  but  he  had  sterling 
worth  and  considerable  strength,  together  with  the  technical  ability 
to  make  both  strikingly  manifest  on  occasion. 


PORTRAIT    i>l'    MARY    WOLLSTONECRAFT,    BY   JOHN    OP1E 

NATIONAL  GALLRRY,    LOND  'N 


JOHN    OPIE 


127 


NOTES    BY   THE    ENGRAVER 


M' 


[ARY  GODWIN,  better  known 
under  her  family  name  of  Woll- 
stonecraft,  was  born  April  27,  1759. 
The  story  of  her  life  is  interesting,  pa- 
thetic, even  tragic.  Her  father  was  a 
spendthrift,  and  the  six  children  of  his 
marriage  soon  left  his  house  to  better 
their  fortunes.  Mary,  in  1778,  became  a 
companion  to  Mrs.  Dawson.  She  after- 
ward went  to  live  with  a  friend  named 
Fanny  Blood,  and  in  that  family  she 
helped  at  needlework.  In  1783  she  set 
up  a  school  in  Newington  Green  with  her 
sister  Mrs.  Bishop.  During  this  period 
she  met  Dr.  Johnson  and  made  many 
literary  friends.  Shortly  afterward  she 
wrote  a  pamphlet  called  "  Thoughts  on 
the  Education  of  Daughters  "  that  at- 
tracted some  attention.  She  was  a  gov- 
erness in  the  family  of  Lord  Kingsborough 
for  a  year,  then  went  to  London  and  be- 
came reader  and  French  translator  to 
Johnson.  Here,  in  1791,  she  met  Wil- 
liam Godwin  for  the  first  time.  The  next 
year  she  published  her  "  Vindication  of 
the  Rights  of  Woman,"  which  was  trans- 
lated into  French.  It  is  said  that  at  this 
time  she  was  in  love  with  Fuseli,  the 
painter,  who  was  already  married,  and 
wished  to  accompany  Johnson  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Fuseli  on  a  trip  to  Paris.  The 
plan  fell  through,  and  Mary  Wollstonecraft 
went  alone  to  France  in  1792.  She  met 
in  Paris  an  American  captain  by  the 
name  of  Imlay,  who  had  abandoned  the 
army  for  commercial  pursuits.  Accord- 
ing to  Leslie  Stephen,  "  she  agreed  to 
live  with  him  as  his  wife,"  and  she  joined 
him  at  Havre  in  the  end  of  1793.  The 
relationship  was  most  unfortunate.  Im- 
lay's  business  kept  them  separated,  and 
she  soon  began  to  doubt  his  fidelity.     She 


followed  him  to  England  in  1795,  and 
in  June  of  the  same  year  sailed  for  Nor- 
way to  make  business  arrangements  for 
him.  When  she  returned  she  found  Im- 
lay carrying  on  an  intrigue  with  another 
woman,  and  tried  to  drown  herself  by 
leaping  from  Putney  Bridge,  but  was 
rescued.  She  finally  broke  with  him  in 
1796,  refusing  money,  but  taking  a  bond 
for  the  benefit  of  their  daughter.  No 
money  was  ever  paid  upon  it.  She  re- 
turned to  writing  and  literary  society, 
and  in  1797  she  married  William  Godwin. 
The  marriage  was  reasonably  happy. 
The  birth  of  her  child,  Mary,  was  fatal 
to  her,  and  she  died  September  10,  1797. 
She  published  many  books,  political, 
social,  and  otherwise.  She  was  a  woman 
of  great  charm  and  fine  personality ;  and 
her  pathetic  letters  to  Imlay  show  her  a 
woman  more  sinned  against  than  sinning. 

Her  portrait  by  Opie,  which  hangs  in 
the  National  Gallery,  London,  is  life- 
sized,  and  shows  her  seated  in  a  reflective 
attitude  before  her  desk,  glancing  up  ab- 
stractedly from  a  manuscript  she  is  pe- 
rusing. Her  whole  air — the  calm  look 
of  thought,  the  inclination  of  the  head  and 
body,  her  hand  lightly  touching  the  leaf 
that  she  is  about  to  turn  over,  where  the 
inkstand  with  its  goose-quill  is  ready  for 
use  —  is  characteristic  of  the  writer  in  a 
brown  study,  and  well  chosen  and  ar- 
ranged by  the  artist,  even  to  the  corner 
of  the  book  that  goes  out  of  the  picture. 

The  dress  is  blue-striped  on  a  dark 
warm  gray  ground  of  a  soft  quality,  and 
floats  gently  into  the  background,  which 
is  of  a  bituminous  depth  and  richness. 
The  tone  of  the  book  is  mellow,  as  of  an 
old  manuscript,  and  does  not  receive  as 
strong  a  light  as  the  face.     The  scarf 


128 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


about  the  neck  and  shoulders  and  the 
band  upholding  the  hair  are  of  a  warm 
bluish-gray  color.  The  hair  is  gray  as 
though  powdered,  and  of  a  frizzly  texture. 
The  tone  of  the  flesh  is  warm  and  mellow 
in  its  breadth  of  light ;  the  countenance  is 
pale,  as  of  one  used  to  a  sedentary  life. 


But  the  features  lack  the  refinement 
of  treatment  and  subtlety  of  modeling 
of  the  highest  art;  they  are  heavy  and 
want  mobility,  suggesting  rather  the  me- 
chanical labor  of  the  drawing-school  than 
the  freedom  and  artlessness  of  the  perfect 
master.  T.  C. 


GEORGE   MORLAND 


CHAPTER  X 

GEORGE  MORLAND 
(1763-1804) 

GEORGE  MORLAND  might  be  used  as  an  illustration  in 
the  argument  for  heredity.  His  grandfather  and  father  were 
painters  of  some  note  before  him;  it  is  said  they  were  both 
gifted  with  convivial  and  somewhat  inelegant  tastes ;  and  one  of 
them  at  least  had,  late  in  life,  fallen  into  the  unlucky  habit  of  not 
paying  his  debts.  These  traits  of  the  fathers  were  about  the  only 
legacy  left  to  the  son,  but  he  improved  them  in  high  degree.  He  was 
by  all  odds  the  best  painter  of  the  family,  certainly  the  most  accom- 
plished drinker,  and  he  proved  as  complacent  a  bankrupt  as  ever 
sat  in  a  debtor's  prison.  One  hardly  finds  it  in  conscience  to  say 
harsh  things  about  him,  because  from  the  beginning  he  seems  to 
have  been  an  irresponsible  sort  of  a  person — a  blind  follower  of  a 
bad  precedent  and  suffering  from  too  much  ancestry. 

Strange  tales  are  told  of  Morland's  childhood  —  of  his  marvelous 
drawings  at  three  years  of  age,  of  his  being  locked  in  a  room  and 
made  to  paint  while  his  father  sold  his  pictures,  of  his  carousals 
with  companions  when  he  could  escape  the  paternal  vigilance.  No 
one  knows  how  true  the  stories  may  be,  but  it  seems  certain  that 
the  boy  received  only  a  haphazard  education  at  the  hands  of  his 
father,  and  that  he  began  working  for  money  at  an  early  age. 
During  his  life  he  never  ceased  to  work  for  money.  At  seventeen 
he  had  something  of  a  reputation,  had  been  presented  to  Reynolds, 
and  was  an  honorary  exhibitor  at  the  Royal  Academy ;  but  the 
dealers  got  all  his  pictures.  At  twenty-one,  when  he  left  his 
father  and  set  up  for  himself,  he  did  so  in  a  dealer's  house.  The 
demand  for  his  pictures  was  large.  He  sold  them  on  the  easel  as 
fast  as  he  could  paint  them,   and  on  the  proceeds  dressed  like  a 

I3I 


I32  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

dandy,  bought  horses,  affected  the  gentleman ;  and  yet  about  his 
only  associates  were  pot-boys,  pugilists,  and  jockeys.  He  had  a 
blathering  contempt  for  nobility  and  society,  and  scorned  anything 
that  might  tend  to  elevate  or  restrain  him.  At  one  time  Mrs. 
Fitzherbert  was  fond  of  his  work  and  would  have  patronized 
him,  but  Morland  never  improved  the  opportunity.  He  preferred 
his  tavern  friends,  his  horses,  and  his  gin. 

Started  early  on  this  devil-may-care  course,  he  left  it  only 
once,  and  that  temporarily.  He  broke  away  from  London,  went 
to  Margate,  where  he  painted  miniatures,  and  finally  found  his  way 
to  France.  He  soon  returned  to  London,  took  lodgings  in  Kensal 
Green,  and  fell  in  love  with  a  sister  of  William  Ward.  They  were 
married,  and  at  the  same  time  Ward  married  Morland's  sister.  The 
two  couples  went  to  housekeeping  together,  and  for  a  time  Morland 
seemed  a  veritable  case  of  reformation.  He  worked  with  persis- 
tence and  purpose,  went  to  the  Isle  of  Wight  and  made  studies  of 
the  sea-coast,  and  painted  pictures  in  series,  after  the  initiative  of 
Hogarth,  that  sold  far  and  wide  in  engravings.  He  had  become 
famous  as  a  story-teller  in  paint  with  such  work  as  the  "Letitia" 
series,  and  was  on  the  road  to  rank  and  position  in  the  world  of 
art.  But  he  could  not  hold  up  under  the  weight  of  decency  and 
prosperity.  Besides,  the  women  quarreled  in  the  house  (as  is  the 
habit  of  tenants  in  common),  and  when  the  Morlands  moved  into 
Great  Portland  Street  the  painter  once  more  took  up  with  the  bottle. 
Of  course  his  wife  was  soon  neglected,  and  finally  he  began  to  culti- 
vate the  happy-go-lucky  fashion  of  walking  off  and  leaving  her  for 
months  at  a  time.  It  seems  that  he  put  in  his  days  and  nights 
wandering  about  from  shop  to  tavern ;  and  she,  poor  soul,  being 
both  fond  and  foolish,  spent  most  of  her  life  following  him  about 
the  town. 

The  tale  runs  on  that  at  this  time  Morland  was  scarcely  ever 
sober.  Hard  working  and  hard  drinking,  dealers  and  debts,  horses 
and  low  company,  were  the  chief  ingredients  in  what  has  been  called 
his  "  gay  life."  Yet  it  is  remarkable  the  number  and  excellence  of 
the  pictures  he  painted  during  the  twenty  years  of  his  suicidal 
career.  It  is  remarkable,  too,  how  actually  overrun  he  was  by 
popular  favor.  People  fought  for  the  privilege  of  buying  his  pic- 
tures. Upward  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  of  them  were  engraved, 
and  the  popularity  of  the  black-and-white  reproductions  was  almost 
as  great  as  that  of  the  originals.     When  the  plates  were  worn  down 


7= 
O 
H 

g 

O 

> 


GEORGE    MORLAND  I33 

so  that  they  would  no  longer  make  a  good  impression  with  black  ink, 
they  were  used  to  print  the  colored  engraving  so  much  in  demand 
in  these  present  times.  Half  of  the  old  colored  prints  now  in  the 
United  States  were  made  after  the  pictures  of  Morland. 

Of  course,  with  such  phenomenal  success,  Morland  soon  grew 
careless.  He  lost  in  drawing  and  in  color,  and  by  way  of  supply- 
ing the  demand  he  sold  pictures  from  his  easel  that  were  little 
more  than  half  finished.  He  had  a  brother  who  was  a  painter 
and  a  dealer  as  well,  and  he  allowed  this  brother  to  copy  his 
pictures  by  the  dozen  and  sell  them  as  originals.  It  is  said  that 
Morland  actually  signed  the  copies  with  his  name,  but  whether  the 
story  is  true  or  not  no  one  can  now  say.  It  is  not  improbable.  What 
little  moral  sense  the  painter  ever  possessed  was  destroyed  early  in 
life  by  gin.     The  only  good  thing  about  him  was  his  painting. 

With  his  large  sales  of  pictures  and  engravings,  Morland's  in- 
come must  have  been  considerable;  yet  he  was  always  in  debt,  and 
had  to  keep  moving  about  London  to  elude  the  bailiffs.  They 
caught  up  with  him  in  1799,  and  it  was  not  until  1802  that  he  was 
released  from  prison  under  the  Insolvent  Debtors'  Act.  His  habits 
had  not  improved,  and  his  left  hand  had  become  palsied;  but  he 
still  painted,  a  bottle  on  one  side  of  him  and  his  color-box  on  the 
other.  He  was  soon  arrested  again,  and  while  under  restraint 
died  suddenly  in  a  sponging-house  in  Eyre  Street  on  October  27, 
1804.  His  poor  wife  was  so  overcome  by  his  death  that  she  died 
three  days  later,  and  the  pair  were  buried  together.  Morland 
seems  to  have  nursed  no  sentimental  delusions  about  himself  or  his 
career.  He  was  aware  of  his  failings,  and  the  epitaph  he  wrote  for 
himself  was:  "  Here  lies  a  drunken  dog." 

The  product  of  such  a  life  is  difficult  to  summarize.  There  is 
always  an  appeal  from  Morland  drunk  to  Morland  sober,  but,  drunk 
or  sober,  Morland  had  some  human  element  at  the  bottom  of  his 
art,  or  he  would  never  have  had  his  popular  success.  He  was  one 
of  the  people,  and  he  painted  as  best  he  could  the  life  of  the  people. 
Women  and  children,  cottage  life,  tavern  scenes,  stables,  horses, 
cattle,  pigs,  smugglers,  boats,  coast  scenes, — in  fact,  almost  every 
genre  imaginable, — came  from  his  brush  and  found  a  welcome  with 
his  public.  If  Morland  believed  in  anything,  he  believed  in  his 
surroundings,  and  was  sincere  in  painting  them.  Then,  besides 
his  popular  subjects,  his  pictures  had  a  story  to  tell  and  a  moral  to 
point — features  which  have  always  been  fetching  with  the  masses. 


134  Old    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

It  was  cheap  enough  story-telling,  to  be  sure, — a  sort  of  penny- 
dreadful  literature  in  paint, — but  when  have  the  masses  ever 
rebelled  against  that?  In  fact,  the  sentiment  of  Morland's  stories 
was  the  most  acceptable  feature  of  his  art.  An  audience  that 
accepted  the  emotional  claptrap  peculiar  to  Mrs.  Opie's  heroines 
was  not  one  to  find  fault  with  Morland's  half-baked  pathos  about 
the  "  Lass  of  Livingston  "  or  the  "African  Slave-trade."  Artistically 
the  excessive  sentiment  stood  for  Morland  drunk,  but  popularly  it 
represented  Morland  sober,  and  was  heartily  relished. 

But  aside  from  such  extraneous  features  of  Morland's  pictures 
there  was  a  painter's  reason  for  their  popularity.  They  show  a 
remarkable  sense  of  the  picturesque.  It  is  not  given  to  every 
one  to  see  the  world  pictorially,  and  Morland  saw  everything  com- 
posed, painted,  and  hanging  upon  the  wall  —  a  stable-yard  as 
well  as  a  drawing-room,  a  litter  of  pigs  as  well  as  a  band  of  children 
playing  at  soldiers.  How  gracefully  his  women  and  children  group 
themselves  in  oval  frames  !  How  picturesque  appears  his  wayside 
inn  with  the  romantic  traveler  on  horseback,  the  maid  with  the  pot 
of  ale,  the  horse-boy,  the  dogs,  and  all  that !  Then  the  sea  with 
its  waves,  the  tossing  ship,  the  rocky  shore,  and  the  landing  smug- 
glers —  how  charmingly  he  focused  the  scene  !  There  seemed  no 
limit  to  his  invention.  He  could  group  almost  anything  and  make 
a  picture  of  it.  He  had  the  pictorial  sense  —  the  painter's  point  of 
view. 

His  hand  was  perhaps  less  cunning  than  his  eye,  and  yet  he 
was  very  clever  in  composition  and  in  brush-work.  He  could 
arrange  groups  of  young  girls,  with  graceful  swirling  lines,  upon  a 
square  of  canvas  almost  as  shrewdly  as  a  Watteau,  and  his  figures  in 
the  courtyard  of  an  inn  seem  each  one  in  the  right  place  as  regards 
light  and  color.  But  of  course  he  had  small  knowledge  of  anatomy 
and  was  deficient  in  drawing.  He  drew  "out  of  his  head,"  and 
where  line  failed  him  he  substituted  a  patch  of  color.  Perspec- 
tive bothered  him,  and  he  seldom  gave  the  planes  of  a  picture  with 
correctness.  The  landscape  of  the  background  often  came  creep- 
ing into  the  foreground,  or  one  side  of  the  picture  did  not  agree 
with  the  other  side,  because  the  true  values  were  not  given.  The 
lighting  of  his  pictures  was  almost  as  arbitrary  as  was  that  of  Rem- 
brandt. That  is  to  say,  he  focused  light  sharply  upon  certain 
objects,  like  a  white  dress,  a  white  horse,  or  a  white  dog.  From 
this  central  spot  he  generally  caused  the  illumination  to  radiate  into 


GEORGE    MORLAND  135 

shadow.  The  "  Stable  Interior,"  which  Mr.  Cole  has  engraved,  is 
a  good  illustration  of  this.  It  is  one  of  the  painter's  largest  and 
most  important  pictures. 

Morland  was  perhaps  shrewder  in  the  matter  of  color  than  in 
either  line  or  light.  Not  that  he  knew  its  depths,  but  that  he 
handled  it  with  facility  and  taste,  often  producing  pictures  of  a  color 
quality  akin  to  the  work  of  Hogarth.  He  was  not,  however,  so 
masterful  in  color  as  Hogarth.  His  reds  and  blues  and  golden 
browns  were  harmonious  enough,  but  they  rang  deeper  and 
clearer  notes  in  the  hands  of  the  painter  of  the  "  Harlot's  Progress." 
Perhaps  Morland's  greatest  excellence  was  his  ability  with  the 
brush.  He  could  cover  over  defects  very  prettily  by  his  cunning 
surfaces.  A  luring  quality  of  texture  or  color  in  animals,  people, 
or  buildings  blinded  people's  eyes  to  the  want  of  drawing.  All  of 
his  great  predecessors  were  somewhat  like  him  in  this  respect. 
They  were  clever  handlers  of  the  brush,  though  they  knew  not 
impeccable  drawing. 

It  is  not  possible  to  state  the  sources  of  Morland's  artistic  know- 
ledge. His  father  was  his  first  and  apparently  his  only  master, 
and  what  the  son  gained  from  him  can  only  be  conjectured.  Doubt- 
less when  in  France  the  painter  was  influenced  by  Greuze  and  the 
graceful  sentimental  subject  then  in  vogue.  Some  of  his  composi- 
tions of  young  girls  show  a  soubrette  type  that  is  more  French  than 
English.  He  has  been  likened  to  Steen  the  Dutchman  ;  but  about 
the  only  sentiment  they  had  in  common  was  a  love  for  drink.  The 
resemblance  between  their  subjects  and  their  painting  lies  entirely 
upon  the  surface.  Likely  enough  Morland  knew  and  studied 
Dutch  pictures  in  London,  and  was  possibly  drawn  to  them.  It  is 
said  that  his  father  made  him  copy  them  when  a  boy.  But  as  for 
imitating  them  or  following  them,  there  is  no  proof  of  it  in  his  work. 
He  was  an  English  painter,  and  painted  the  life  about  him  in  the 
manner  common  to  all  the  painters  of  the  school. 

Again,  it  is  not  possible  to  trace  his  styles  of  painting  with  any 
accuracy.  His  life  was  too  much  of  a  nightmare,  too  much  of  a 
snarl,  to  unravel  from  it  dates,  styles,  and  periods.  It  is  recorded 
that  he  threw  off  upward  of  four  thousand  pictures ;  but  when, 
where,  and  how,  the  canvases  do  not  tell.  It  seems  probable  that 
at  first  he  painted  young  girls  in  white,  seated  in  groups  at  tam- 
bour-work or  other  domestic  occupations.  They  are  marvels  of 
grace,  charm,  and  refinement  of  taste,  as  are  also  his  groups  of  chil- 


136 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


dren  and  his  boys  at  play.  Later  on  he  took  up  such  subjects  as  sea- 
pieces  with  smugglers  on  the  coast,  tavern  courts,  stables,  horses, 
dogs,  pigs.  His  touch  grew  heavy,  and  his  theme  seemed  to  have 
changed  for  the  worse,  but  he  never  lost  his  refinement  of  feeling 
and  his  sense  of  delicate  color.  These  qualities,  which  may  be 
revealed  in  the  flesh  color  of  a  pig  as  well  as  in  anything  else, 
remained  with  him  to  the  end  of  his  brutish  life.  It  was  a  strange 
life  for  a  human  being  to  live,  strange  above  all  for  a  painter;  and 
yet  it  was  not  without  its  saving  grace,  its  scrap  of  beauty  flash- 
ing like  a  jewel  from  the  gutter. 


NOTES   BY   THE    ENGRAVER 


MORLAND'S  "Stable  Interior"  is 
said  to  represent  that  of  the  White 
Lion  Inn  at  Paddington,  whereabout  the 
artist  at  one  time  dwelt.  The  picture  is 
an  example  of  his  best  period,  doubtless 
the  finest  instance  of  it,  since  it  is  rated 
by  connoisseurs  as  his  masterpiece.  It 
was  painted  in  1791,  and  exhibited  the 
same  year  at  the  Royal  Academy,  from 
which  place  it  was  purchased  by  the  Rev. 
Sir  Henry  Bate  Dudley,  Bart.,  and  fall- 
ing into  the  possession  of  that  gentle- 
man's nephew,  Mr.  Thomas  Birch  Wolfe, 
it  was  in  1877  presented  by  him  to  the 
National  Gallery,  London. 

It  is  a  magnificent  work.  The  subtle 
mystery  of  enveloping  air  and  light  per- 
vading the  interior  gloom  is  rendered 
with  an  appreciation  for  breadth  and 
repose ;  the  masses  are  well  preserved ; 
there  is  no  confusion,  spottiness,  or  petty 
markings  and  exaggerated  spots  of  local 
color ;  the  white  horse,  which  arrests  the 
eye  first  thing,  does  not  protrude,  but  lies 
in  its  place  in  the  atmosphere,  not  only 
because  it  is  a  true  value,  but  because  of 
the  cunning  handling  of  its  contours, 
which  have  the  vanishings  ajid  accents 
of  nature,  and  because,  also,  of  the  aerial 
softness  with  which  the  background  is 
modulated  in  places  as  it  approaches 
them.    The  whole  of  the  shadowed  space, 


with  its  heavy  woodwork,  rafters,  and 
details  all  delicately  suggested  —  such  as 
the  wheelbarrow,  spade,  and  brush  broom, 
markings  of  the  boards  and  manger, 
even  to  the  basket  lodged  above  in  the 
dim  corner  of  the  transverse  beam,  is 
modeled  with  rare  feeling  for  depth  and 
chiaroscuro.  There  is  no  mean  anxiety 
shown  for  small  particulars,  yet  in  the 
impression  of  the  whole  nothing  is  left  in 
a  vague,  half-true,  half-realized  condition ; 
neither  does  it  degenerate  from  a  fine 
poetic  seeing  into  mere  laborious  handi- 
work. In  the  touch  of  landscape  with- 
out he  endeavors  to  show  the  sparkle  of 
sunlight  upon  the  leaves  of  the  trees, 
though  in  no  mean  way,  and  designed,  I 
fancy,  rather  as  a  bit  of  texture  to  accen- 
tuate the  quietude  of  the  shade  within. 

The  composition  is  distinctly  an  ar- 
rangement. The  lantern  and  object 
hanging  above  it  break  the  disagreeable- 
ness  which  the  straight  line  of  the  door- 
way, without  this  device,  would  make. 
Then,  too,  the  position  of  the  wheelbar- 
row varies  what  otherwise  would  be  an 
unpleasant  repetition  of  so  many  horses' 
legs  ;  it  also  adds  fullness,  and  as  a  char- 
acteristic accessory  is  of  interest  in  itself. 
The  farther  window  is  latticed  and  re- 
ceives but  little  light,  being  shaded  by 
the  outer  foliage ;  the  near  window,  how- 


H 

> 
- 

r 


GEORGE    MORLAND 


137 


ever,  is  draped  with  an  old  cloth,  through 
which  the  light  sifts  dimly.  Had  these 
two  windows,  situated  as  they  are  on 
either  side  of  the  main  entrance,  been  left 
bare,  not  only  would  the  present  variety 
be  wanting,  but  think  how  unpleasantly 
the  square  of  the  large  door  would  be 
repeated  in  them !  But  by  the  present 
contrivance  the  light  is  also  concentrated 
upon  the  principal  objects  of  interest.  In 
like  manner  are  all  the  parts  disposed  and 
studied,  and  care  taken  to  avoid  over- 
crowding. 

Morland's  coloring,  like  all  good,  sound 
painting,  is  well  grounded  in  light  and 
shade,  and  much  of  his  finest  quality  is 
therefore  capable  of  translation  into  black 
and  white.  But  no  process  of  color-print- 
ing could  ever  convey  the  least  idea  of 
the  refinement  of  paint,  so  exquisitely 
balanced  between  warm  and  cool  tones, 
that  prevails  in  this  canvas  of  the  "  Sta- 
ble Interior,"  upon  whose  sensitive  sur- 
face anything  like  black  would  show  up 
as  a  brutality ;  neither  could  it  give  any 
adequate  notion  of  the  flood  of  mellow 
light  that  from  the  hazy  blue  sky  silvers 


the  foliage  and,  permeating  with  a  cool 
softness  the  depths  of  the  inclosure, 
brings  into  gentle  yet  strong  relief  the 
neutral  brown  of  the  one  horse  and  pony, 
and  the  warm  white  of  the  other,  and 
delicately  relieves  the  boy  in  grayish  red 
and  the  man  in  blue. 

Morland's  drawing  is  the  poorest  part 
of  his  art :  the  figures  here  are  ill  pro- 
portioned, and  his  horses  are  round,  and 
want  the  accentuation  that  a  little  know- 
ledge of  anatomy  would  contribute  to 
them.  But  he  touched  no  new  problems. 
His  works  are  like  those  of  the  Dutch- 
men, but  lack  their  probity  of  design  and 
their  sensitive  balance  of  values. 

"  The  Halt,"  which  is  among  the  col- 
lection of  English  pictures  in  the  long 
gallery  of  the  Louvre  at  Paris,  is  a  falling 
off  from  the  high-water  mark  of  the  pre- 
vious picture,  being  browner  in  tone  — 
of  the  "  brown-fiddle  "  tendency.  The 
same  fullness  and  charming  picturesque- 
ness  of  composition  is  here,  and  fills  the 
eye  with  an  agreeable  sense  of  propor- 
tion. This  rare  gift  Morland  had  intui- 
tively. T.  C. 


JOHN   CROME 


THE    WINDMILL,    BY    JOHN    CROME. 

NATIONAL   GALLERY,    LONDON. 


CHAPTER  XI 

JOHN  CROME,  CALLED  "OLD  CROME " 
(1768-1821) 

THE  origins  of  the  early  English  landscape  are  not  difficult  to 
trace.  There  are  three  names  that  stand  for  three  stages  of 
its  progress.  Wilson  had  founded  it,  following  the  classic 
precedent  of  Claude  ;  Gainsborough  had  added  to  it  the  Dutch  and 
Flemish  traditions:  but  it  remained  for  Crome  to  English  it  and 
make  it  live.  Crome,  the  Norwich  provincial,  who  knew  little  of 
tradition  and  less  of  school  training,  produced  the  most  vital  land- 
scape of  his  time,  possibly  because  of  his  provincialism.  Without 
precept  or  preceptor,  painting  "Mousehold  Heath"  because  it  was 
before  him,  in  his  own  manner  because  no  teacher  was  behind  him, 
Crome  builded  much  better  than  he  knew.  In  rendering  certain 
features  of  landscape,  such  as  space,  sky,  and  light,  he  has  not  been 
surpassed.  Modern  painters  have  sought  to  reproduce  these 
features  by  academic  rule,  but  the  "Windmill"  in  the  National 
Gallery  will  to-day  stand  up  against  them  all.  Its  sky  and  light 
are  perfect — and  that  is  using  the  last  word  in  the  vocabulary. 

Crome  was  born  at  Norwich,  in  the  east  of  England,  in  Decem- 
ber, 1 768.  He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  weaver,  and  is  said  to  have 
received  little  or  no  schooling.  At  twelve  he  was  an  errand-boy 
for  a  country  physician  named  Rigby,  and  at  fifteen  he  had  appren- 
ticed himself  for  seven  years  to  Francis  Whisler,  a  coach-,  sign-,  and 
house-painter.  Later  on  he  developed  a  taste  for  landscape-paint- 
ing and  a  friendship  for  a  printer's  prentice,  also  artistically 
inclined,  named  Ladbrooke.  They  took  a  garret  together  and 
began  the  practice  of  art,  Ladbrooke  painting  portraits  at  five 
shillings  a  head,  and  Crome  landscapes  at  thirty  shillings.  This 
was  about  the  time  Crome  finished  his  years  of  apprenticeship,  but 
he  did  not  immediately  abandon  his  trade.     Mr.  Reeve,  at  Nor- 

141 


142  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

wich  (to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  much  valuable  information  about 
Crome  and  Cotman),  has  a  bill  of  Crome's  for  painting  the  sign  of 
the  Maid's  Head  Tavern,  two  pounds  fourteen;  and  the  bill  is  dated 
May  27,  1803.  Crome  was  then  thirty-four,  and  though  he  had 
little  money  he  had  made  some  friends.  Among  others,  a  Mr. 
Harvey  had  introduced  him  as  a  drawing-master  to  people  in  Nor- 
folk, and  had  allowed  him  to  study  pictures  inhis  gallery;  Sir  William 
Beechey,  in  London,  had  taken  an  interest  in  him  and  given  him 
instruction ;  and  Opie  had  also  helped  him. 

Crome  at  this  time  was  married  (he  and  Ladbrooke  having 
married  sisters  by  the  name  of  Bernay),  and  there  were  already 
hostages  to  fortune  in  the  shape  of  daughters  and  sons.  The  fam- 
ily grew  large;  the  painter  found  himself  tied  down  hand  and  foot 
to  Norwich,  and  he  could  do  little  more  than  eke  out  a  meager 
existence  by  teaching  drawing  in  his  native  town,  and  selling  pic- 
tures whenever  an  opportunity  offered.  This  he  did  for  some  years, 
and  gradually  he  drew  about  him  what  interest  and  what  talent  for 
art  there  was  in  the  Norfolk  country.  Thus  came  to  be  formed  the 
first  provincial  school  of  painters  in  England,  though  probably 
the  interested  parties  never  thought  of  themselves  as  a  "school," 
or  fancied  that  they  were  developing  a  "movement"  in  art. 
The  artistic  interest  thus  awakened  finally  crystallized  in  the 
"  Norwich  Society,"  the  aim  of  which  was  "  an  inquiry  into  the 
rise,  progress  and  present  state  of  Painting,  Architecture  and 
Sculpture  with  a  view  to  point  out  the  best  methods  of  study  and 
to  attain  to  greater  perfection  in  these  arts."  Cotman,  Vincent, 
Stark,  Stannard,  Thirtle  belonged  to  it.  It  was  in  sort  an  art  club 
that  met  every  fortnight  to  study  books,  drawings,  and  engravings, 
and  to  discuss  art,  possibly  after  the  postprandial  manner  known 
to  artists  of  the  present  day.  It  was  certainly  not  an  extravagant 
club,  for  the  refreshments  were  limited  to  bread  and  cheese,  the  bill 
for  which  was  assumed  by  each  member  in  turn.  The  society  soon 
blossomed  out  into  exhibitions,  the  first  of  which  was  held  in  a 
room  of  Sir  Benjamin  Wrench's  court  —  a  wretched  place  known 
in  local  parlance  as  the  "  Hole-in-the-Wall."  In  it  were  shown  two 
hundred  and  twenty-three  works  in  oil  and  water-color,  of  which 
Crome  contributed  over  twenty.  This  was  in  1803.  The  exhibi- 
tions continued  annually,  with  some  interruptions,  until  1833,  and 
during  that  time  Crome  sent  to  them  some  two  hundred  and  eighty- 
eight  pictures. 


JOHN     CROME  143 

Aside  from  these  home  interests,  Crome  occasionally  ran  up  to 
London,  but  he  did  not  send  anything  to  the  Royal  Academy  until 
1806,  and,  all  told,  never  exhibited  more  than  twenty  pictures  there. 
He  wandered  in  England  a  little.  In  1802  he  was  with  the  Gur- 
neys  as  drawing-master  while  making  a  tour  of  the  Lakes  ;  in  1805 
he  was  on  the  Wye,  in  1806  at  Weymouth.  Eight  years  later  he 
made  a  short  trip  to  Belgium  and  France.  Doubtless  his  glimpse 
of  foreign  art  had  some  influence  upon  him.  He  may  have  seen 
and  studied  Dutch,  French,  and  Italian  landscape  art  on  the  Conti- 
nent, but  he  showed  none  of  the  study  in  his  painting.  His  style 
was  formed  before  he  crossed  the  Channel,  and  he  did  not  change 
materially  during  the  rest  of  his  life.  At  fifty-three  he  died 
suddenly  in  his  native  town  of  Norwich,  and  the  tale  is  told  that 
his  last  words  were,  "  Hobbema,  my  dear  Hobbema,  how  I  have 
loved  you  !  " 

The  story  of  Crome's  last  words,  like  many  another  pretty 
story  in  art,  may  be  labeled,  "Interesting  if  true."  But  there  are 
two  good  reasons  for  doubting  its  truth.  In  the  first  place,  they 
are  not  the  sort  of  words  nor  do  they  express  the  kind  of  sentiment 
the  dying  usually  give  utterance  to ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  there 
is  very  slight  trace  of  Crome's  love  for  Hobbema  in  his  landscapes, 
where  of  all  places  it  might  reasonably  be  expected  to  show.  Yet 
writer  after  writer  has  put  it  down  that  Crome  based  his  art  upon 
that  of  Hobbema.  There  is  just  a  shade  of  truth  in  the  statement, 
because  Crome  did  know  Hobbema's  work  at  second  hand,  as  we 
shall  note  in  a  moment;  but  at  best  it  takes  some  stretch  of  the 
imagination  to  see  similarity  in  the  pictures  of  the  two  men.  Their 
schemes  of  light  and  color  are  totally  different,  and  in  tree-drawing 
the  only  resemblance  is  that  they  are  both  wearisome  in  detail. 
Crome  was  self-taught  in  the  sense  that  he  had  no  master;  but 
naturally  he  took  a  bias  from  pictures  seen  at  Norwich  and  there- 
about, and  his  first  artistic  love  was  an  Englishman,  Richard 
Wilson.  He  never  outgrew  this  first  love.  Almost  all  of  his  works 
—  even  the  very  late  ones — show  the  golden  sky  and  mellow  light 
of  Wilson,  newly  studied,  enhanced,  and  more  sensitively  portrayed. 
Again,  many  of  them  are  composed  after  Wilson's  manner,  and 
have  his  feeling  for  space  beyond  rocks  or  hills.  In  fact,  no  one 
would  suspect  Hobbema  in  the  case  if  it  were  not  for  that  last- 
words  story.  Crome's  etchings,  which  are  the  poorest  part  of  his 
output,  are  perhaps  more  Dutch  in  their  look  than  his  paintings; 


144  Old    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

but  all  these  hints  at  Dutch  derivation  may  be  traced  to  an  English 
source — the  art  of  Gainsborough. 

Crome  was  twenty  years  of  age  when  Gainsborough  died,  and 
surely  he  must  have  heard  of  the  famous  painter  who  had  come 
from  the  Suffolk  country,  so  near  at  hand.  The  tale  is  told  that 
the  celebrated  "Cottage  Door"  by  Gainsborough  belonged  to 
Crome's  earliest  patron,  Mr.  Harvey,  who  gave  Crome  the  privi- 
leges of  his  gallery  for  purposes  of  study.  It  would  thus  seem 
that  Gainsborough  was  an  earlier  influence  in  the  painter's  life  than 
Wilson,  but,  early  or  late,  he  certainly  was  an  influence.  The 
"brown-fiddle"  tree,  the  dark  shadow,  the  flickering  light  on  foli- 
age, the  reflecting  pool  of  water,  came  from  Gainsborough;  and 
even  that  sharpness  of  drawing,  that  brittleness  of  bough  and  nig- 
gling of  leafage  in  Crome,  which  have  been  attributed  to  Hobbema, 
doubtless  came  from  such  Gainsborough  imitations  of  the  Dutch- 
man as  the  "  Cornard  Woodland"  in  the  National  Gallery. 

Crome  was,  to  be  sure,  something  of  a  follower,  as  every 
painter  must  be;  but  he  followed  his  own  countrymen,  and,  what  is 
more,  he  improved  upon  them.  To  their  knowledge  he  added  an 
individual  intelligence  of  no  mean  order.  His  sense  of  light  in  the 
sky  and  movement  in  the  clouds  was  most  keen,  his  grasp  of  the 
height  and  depth  of  space  was  profound,  and  his  poetry  of  aerial 
distance  was  little  short  of  sublime.  Accepting  art  as  a  conven- 
tion,—  a  something  far  removed  from  the  reality, —  he  nevertheless 
insisted  upon  its  revealing  truths  of  his  own  seeing.  The  "  Mouse- 
hold  Heath"  he  painted  for  "air  and  space,"  and  he  achieved 
them  as  Gainsborough  and  Wilson  never  did.  The  roll  of  the 
hills  and  the  distance  beyond  them  are  superb;  the  sky  as  ori- 
ginally painted  must  have  been  superb,  too,  but  it  is  now  so 
rubbed  that  it  has  lost  its  depth  and  aerial  luminosity.  An  art 
device  borrowed  from  Wilson,  rather  than  his  own  knowledge,  led 
him  to  mar  the  picture  by  a  wholly  conventional  foreground,  and 
the  cattle  were  put  in  by  another  hand  after  Crome's  death.  But 
notwithstanding  these  shortcomings,  notwithstanding  the  picture 
having  been  painted  upon  two  pieces  of  canvas  so  badly  stitched 
together  that  they  came  apart,  notwithstanding  rubbing,  cleaning, 
and  repainting,  the  "  Mousehold  Heath,"  as  it  hangs  to-day  in  the 
National  Gallery,  is  a  landscape  of  wonderful  charm  and  beauty. 

And  yet  this  picture  is  perhaps  not  so  complete  in  every  way 
as  the  "  Windmill,"  in  which  the  best  features  of  Crome  are  re- 


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iii 


JOHN    CROME  145 

vealed.  It  has  already  been  said  that  the  light  and  sky  of  this 
picture  are  "  perfect."  No  painter  has  ever  gone  beyond  it. 
Rembrandt  in  his  landscapes  could  force  this  evening  light  into  a 
central  glare  by  dark  borderings  of  storm-clouds,  and  Corot  could 
diffuse  it  over  the  whole  upper  half  of  his  canvas  in  a  way  that  sug- 
gested more  than  it  revealed:  but  neither  of  them  told  it  with  the 
plain,  simple  truth  of  Crome.  And  no  one  ever  told  with  better 
effect  the  depth  of  the  air,  the  far  look  into  space  over  the  ridge 
of  a  hill,  the  reach  of  aerial  distance.  The  superlative  statement 
in  art  criticism  is  usually  dangerous,  but  one  may  venture  it  about 
Crome's  light  and  aerial  space.  They  remain  unexcelled  to  this 
day. 

His  trees  and  foliage,  after  all  has  been  said  in  their  favor,  ex- 
cite small  enthusiasm.  They  are  "  drawn,"  to  be  sure,  but  with  a 
brittle  brush  and  a  tedious  insistence  upon  the  infinitely  little. 
The  breadth  and  depth  of  a  tree  such  as  Rousseau  painted  Crome 
seems  never  to  have  comprehended.  The  "  Poringland  Oak,"  fine 
masterpiece  as  it  is,  is  a  case  to  the  point.  It  is  not  the  better 
for  its  many-pronged  branches.  The  sky,  the  light,  the  air,  the 
water,  are  living ;  but  the  tree,  for  all  its  characterization  as  an 
oak,  is  dead  and  petrified.  And  yet,  by  way  of  contradiction,  there 
is  the  "Skirts  of  the  Forest,"  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  with 
trees  that  are  without  the  slightest  trace  of  torturing,  without  de- 
tail work  of  any  kind.  Crome  could  paint  with  a  broad,  flat  brush 
at  times,  but  it  was  not  his  usual  practice.  The  "  Slate  Quarries," 
in  the  National  Gallery,  is  another  illustration  of  breadth  and  sim- 
plicity of  masses  quite  worthy  of  a  Courbet.  The  free  handling  in 
this  picture  extends  even  into  the  foreground ;  and  yet,  as  a  rule, 
Crome's  foregrounds  are  petrified,  the  flowers,  the  weeds,  and  the 
grasses  being  cut  patterns  rather  than  natural  growths.  Crome 
has  always  been  praised  for  these  icicle-like  drawings  of  tree  and 
shrub,  but  they  would  seem  to  be  his  least  praiseworthy  features. 
His  originality,  his  invention,  his  skill,  seem  best  shown  in  the 
light  of  morning  and  evening,  in  the  sweep  of  hills,  in  the  air  of 
the  sea-coast,  in  the  sluggish  waters  of  rivers  and  harbors,  with 
sails  and  buildings  against  golden  skies  and  white  clouds. 

Many  subjects  found  their  way  upon  Crome's  canvases.  He 
painted  almost  every  kind  of  view  to  be  found  in  and  about  Nor- 
folk. Any  one  who  travels  up  to  Norwich  will  see  his  landscapes 
at  almost  any  turn  of  the  road.      He  liked  sand-dunes,  quarries, 


146  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

wood  interiors,  single  trees  on  a  heath.  The  banks  of  the  Wen- 
sum  and  the  Yare  he  painted  many  times.  The  meadows  with 
slow  moving  rivers,  an  idle  boat  with  drooping  sails,  the  coast 
with  docks,  the  open  sea,  all  appealed  to  him.  They  were  usually 
calm  scenes  with  still  evening  skies,  warm  in  their  yellows  and 
grays,  and  fine  in  their  atmospheric  effects.  Crome  was  not  flam- 
boyant in  color,  and  yet  in  a  limited  sense  he  was  something  of  a 
colorist.  His  palette  scarcely  held  more  than  pale  yellow,  dull 
green,  golden  brown,  and  silvery  grays,  but  with  these  few  notes 
he  could  produce  color-schemes  of  great  delicacy  and  charm. 

His  method  of  painting  was  simple  but  skilful.  He  based  his 
pictures  in  warm  neutral  tints,  and  then  overlaid  his  lights  and 
shadows  with  a  meager  brush.  He  thus  gained  much  warmth  and 
color  from  the  background.  If  it  was  a  dark,  shadowed  effect  that 
he  wished,  he  underbased  in  dark.  This  was  sometimes  attended 
by  unhappy  results,  the  "  C arrow  Abbey"  and  the  "Dawn"  at 
Norwich,  for  instances,  being  much  blackened  by  the  disintegration 
of  the  surface  pigments.  Some  of  his  pictures  are  so  thinly  painted 
that  the  weave  of  the  canvas  is  disagreeably  prominent.  He  was 
not  a  painter  given  to  thick  impasto.  All  his  effects  are  produced 
by  simple  and  direct  means. 

During  his  life  there  was  little  recognition  came  to  him  from 
the  public,  and  even  after  his  death  the  celebrated  "  Mousehold 
Heath  "  sold  for  only  one  pound.  But  he  was  acclaimed  by  his 
pupils  and  followers,  though  they  out-heroded  him  in  the  matter 
of  niggling  tree-foliage.  Possibly  they  loved  him  for  his  faults, 
which  not  infrequently  happens  in  art- worship ;  but,  at  any  rate, 
they  called  him  master  and  placed  him  at  the  head  of  the  Norwich 
school.  In  recent  times  the  picture  collector  has  created  a  large 
demand    for   Crome's  works.1     England  has   been   ransacked   for 

1  George  Borrow,  in  his  "  Lavengro,"  has  a  eu-  some  day  to  be  acknowledged,  though  not  until 
logy  and  a  prediction  about  Crome  that  is  per-  he  is  cold  and  his  mortal  part  returned  to  its 
haps  worth  repeating :  "  A  living  master  ?  kindred  clay.  He  has  painted,  not  pictures  of 
Why,  there  he  comes  !  Thou  hast  had  him  long ;  the  world,  but  English  pictures  such  as  Gains- 
he  has  long  guided  thy  young  hand  toward  the  borough  himself  might  have  done :  beautiful 
excellence  which  is  yet  far  from  thee,  but  which  rural  pieces  with  trees  which  might  well  tempt 
thou  canst  attain  if  thou  shouldst  persist  and  the  wild  birds  to  perch  upon  them.  Thou  need- 
wrestle,  even  as  he  has  done,  amid  gloom  and  est  not  run  to  Rome,  brother,  where  lives  the 
despondency  —  aye,  and  even  contempt.  He  who  old  Mariolater,  after  pictures  of  the  world,  while 
now  comes  up  the  creaking  stair  to  this  little  at  home  there  are  pictures  of  England ;  nor 
studio  in  the  second  floor  to  inspect  thy  last  ef-  needest  thou  even  go  to  London,  the  big  city,  in 
fort  before  thou  departest,  the  little  stout  man  search  of  a  master ;  for  thou  hast  one  at  home,  in 
whose  face  is  very  dark  and  whose  eye  is  viva-  the  old  East  Anglican  town,  who  can  instruct 
cious,  that  man  has  attained  excellence  destined  thee  while  thou  needest  instruction.     Better  stay 


JOHN    CROME 


HI 


them,  and  many  a  Stark  or  Vincent  or  Bernay  Crome  has  answered 
the  requisition.  A  posthumous  fame  is  perhaps  preferable  to  none 
at  all,  but  Crome  deserved  better  of  his  age  and  generation.  He 
had  his  limitations,  but  he  was  not  the  less  a  genius. 


NOTES   BY   THE    ENGRAVER 


THERE  could  scarcely  be  a  better  in- 
stance, for  the  art  student,  of  the 
meaning  of  "  tone  "  in  painting  than  the 
picture  of  the  "  Windmill "  by  "  Old 
Crome  "  affords,  in  the  prevailing  color 
of  the  atmosphere  that  envelops  and 
bathes  its  brightest  portion  as  its  darkest, 
uniting  all  its  surface  in  one  hue.  A 
beautiful  ensemble  charms  the  eye,  as  on 
those  rare  occasions  of  sunset  when  the 
air,  heavy  with  moisture,  is  flooded  with 
golden  light,  and  the  circumambient  fluid 
—  molding  all  in  one  element  —  trans- 
forms the  meanest  post  or  fence,  and  im- 
parts to  everything  a  face  of  mellowed 
richness. 

By  the  medium  of  a  veil  of  lovely  yel- 
low light,  one  might  say,  Crome  gives  us, 
in  the  "  Windmill,"  the  subtle  nuances 
of  gray  and  purple  clouds  that  lose  them- 
selves mysteriously  in  modeled  depths  of 
airy  space ;  the  brown  and  amber  earth 
spotted  with  heather  and  shrub,  and  fad- 
ing by  imperceptible  gradations  into  the 
blue  of  distant  hills ;  and  the  varied  play 
and  interchange  of  green  foliage.  Such 
a  delightful  harmony  of  tints,  and  such  a 
happy  tone  over  all,  giving  enchantment 
and  ideality  to  the  fair  region !  How 
well  Crome  understood  the  avoidance  of 
all  petty  markings  and  exaggerated  spots 


of  local  coloring,  to  the  attainment  of  the 
mystery  of  enveloping  air  and  light  —  of 
poetic  beauty,  in  short ! 

But  though  Crome's  style  exhibits  a 
simplicity  and  breadth  of  view,  so  far  as 
landscape,  pure  and  simple,  is  concerned, 
it  nevertheless  is  poor  and  dry  with  re- 
spect to  the  figures  which  he  often  intro- 
duces into  them,  since  he  here  employs  a 
false  kind  of  definition,  belonging  to  the 
convention  of  outline-drawing  rather  than 
to  that  of  full-toned  oil-painting.  The 
relative  truths  of  definition,  so  far  as  trees, 
shrubs,  etc.,  are  concerned,  are  maintained 
with  breadth  and  fullness  according  to  the 
planes  of  the  aerial  perspective  of  these 
things ;  but  this  truth  fails  to  be  applied 
to  animated  objects,  for  the  reason,  proba- 
bly, that  as  the  artist  was  not  at  home  in 
the  drawing  of  such  objects,  his  anxiety 
upon  this  score  led  him  to  observe  them 
more  narrowly  than  he  otherwise  would 
have  done,  and  consequently  to  give  a 
modeling,  and  light  and  shade,  to  distant 
figures  too  small  to  properly  exhibit  such 
phenomena  in  keeping  with  his  breadth 
of  other  parts.  The  distant  cattle,  for  in- 
stance, in  "  Household  Heath  "  are  not 
big  things  seen  far  off,  but  rather  little 
miniatures  near  at  hand,  compelled  by 
perspective  to  occupy  a  false  position  on 


at  home,  brother,  at  least  for  a  season,  and  toil 
and  strive  'mid  groanings  and  despondency  till 
thou  hast  attained  excellence  even  as  he  has  done 
—  the  little  dark  man  with  the  brown  coat  and 
the  top-boots,  whose  name  will  one  day  be  con- 
sidered the  chief  ornament  of  the  old  town,  and 
whose   works   will   at    no   distant   period    rank 


among  the  proudest  pictures  of  England  —  and 
England  against  the  world !  Thy  master,  my 
brother,  thy  at  present  all  too  little  considered 
master  —  Crome. " 

I  am  indebted  to  the  Rev.  George  McClellan 
Fiske  of  Providence  for  calling  my  attention  to 
this  tribute  by  Borrow. 


148 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


the  canvas1  —  not  with  respect  to  color, 
however,  for  his  figures  never  jar  upon 
the  general  tone,  and  his  light  and  shade 
are  masterful.  The  "  Windmill "  is 
painted  on  wood,  three  feet  eight  inches 
high  by  three  feet  wide.  The  view  is 
said  to  be  situated  probably  on  Mousehold 
Heath  near  Norwich. 

The  large  painting  of  "  Mousehold 
Heath,"  which  is  likewise,  with  the 
"  Windmill,"  to  be  seen  in  the  National 
Gallery,  London,  is  five  feet  eleven  inches 
wide  by  three  feet  seven  inches  high. 
This  picture  is  said  to  have  been  bought 
at  one  time  by  a  dealer  who,  with  the 
idea  of  turning  his  purchase  to  better  ac- 
count, cut  it  in  half  and  sold  it,  or  tried 
to  sell  it,  as  two  different  works.     Fortu- 


nately, the  two  halves  were  bought  by  some 
more  intelligent  person,  who  reunited 
them;  but  the  crack  can  still  plainly  be 
seen  down  the  middle  of  the  work.  This 
subject  was  painted,  as  the  artist  once  re- 
marked, for  the  sake  of  "  air  and  space  " ; 
he  aimed  also  at  a  more  silvery  tone  — 
at  the  pure  light  of  day :  both  of  which 
results  he  has  achieved  to  a  remarkable 
degree.  There  is  plenty  of  breathing- 
room  here  on  these  rolling  hills,  and  rest 
for  the  eyes;  it  is  like  a  glimpse  of  the 
ocean  itself.  The  repose  of  evening  is 
here  also ;  air  slumbers : 

Stealthy  withdrawings,  interminglings  mild 
Of  liglit  with  shade  in  beauty  reconciled  — 
Such  is  the  prospect  far  as  sight  can  range. 

T  C. 


1  Mr.  Cole's  objection  to  the  cattle  is  well  taken,  but  Crome  cannot  be  held  responsible  for 
them.     They  were  added  by  another  hand  after  Crome's  death. — V.  D. 


JOHN    SELL   COTMAN 


THE    BREAKDOWN,    BY    JOHN    SELL   COTMAN. 

COLLECTION    OF     JUL    LATE    J      J     COLR1AN,    ESQ.,    NORWICH. 


CHAPTER   XII 

JOHN    SELL    COTMAN 
(i 782-1842) 

THE  pictures  attributed  to  Cotman  that  one  sees  about  Lon- 
don give  a  decidedly  false  impression  of  that  painter.  He 
is  not  adequately  represented  in  any  public  gallery.  Only 
in  such  private  collections  as  those  of  Mr.  Reeve  and  the  late  Mr. 
Colman1  at  Norwich  do  we  meet  with  the  true  Cotman  ;  and  he 
proves  a  very  different  man  from  the  Cotman  of  the  National  Gal- 
lery. The  impression  of  Dutch  influence  that  one  gets  from  the 
London  pictures  is  peculiarly  misleading.  Cotman  had  little  or  no 
affinity  with  the  Netherland  painters.  His  shore  and  river  pieces 
suggest  nothing  of  Van  der  Neer,  and  his  marines  are  guiltless 
of  any  influence  from  Van  de  Velde  or  Backhuisen.  A  painter 
of  great  variety,  he  dealt  with  many  subjects — the  architecture  of 
church,  castle,  and  bridge,  landscapes  with  windmills,  woods  and 
plains,  rivers  and  harbors  with  boats,  the  open  sea  in  rough 
weather;  but  in  all  of  these  he  was  distinctly  English.  Mr.  Binyon 
in  his  "Portfolio"  monograph  gives  his  artistic  lineage  correctly. 
He  was  like  Girtin  in  method,  often  like  Turner  in  subjects  and 
composition,  sometimes  suggestive  of  Bonington  in  color. 

But  with  his  artistic  descent  determined,  Cotman  is  by  no 
means  an  easy  painter  to  epitomize.  He  rather  eludes  the  pen 
that  would  pin  him  down  or  sum  him  up.  His  varied  point  of  view, 
his  remarkable  versatility,  his  frequent  changes  of  subject  and 
method,  are  all  somewhat  confusing ;  and  when  one  has  traced  him 
through  many  years  of  production  the  impression  left  is  a  little  in- 
definite. The  feeling  is  that  of  an  aspiring  spirit  that  has  turned 
and  doubled  many  times  under  many  impulses.    There  are  bursts  of 

1  The  Colman  pictures  have  recently  passed  by  request  to  the  Castle  Museum  at  Norwich. 

JS1 


152  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

strength  indicative  of  genius,  even  of  greatness.  But  the  flight  of  the 
arrow  is  not  true;  it  gyrates,  wavers  in  the  breeze,  and  finally  sinks 
to  earth,  falling  short  of  the  goal.  At  least,  such  is  the  conclusion  that 
one  arrives  at  from  a  study  of  Cotman's  work,  though  it  must  not  be 
thought  for  a  moment  that  he  was  a  failure.  In  his  own  eyes, 
doubtless,  he  was  anything  but  a  success ;  but  those  who  knew  him 
in  life, — his  fellow-artists,  for  instance, —  and  those  who  have  come 
to  study  him  in  recent  years,  will  not  tolerate  any  such  estimate. 
He  perhaps  lacked  in  singleness  of  aim,  definiteness  of  purpose ; 
but  he  was  not  the  less  a  genius  who,  under  more  favorable  circum- 
stances, might  have  soared  in  splendor  with  Turner,  or  fathomed 
the  larger  truths  of  nature  with  Millet. 

Cotman  hardly  belongs  to  the  Norwich  school,  though  he  was 
born  at  Norwich,  May  16,  1782.  His  father  was  a  silk  merchant, 
and  his  son  was  destined  to  succeed  him  in  the  business;  but  the 
love  of  art  intervened.  After  an  academic  education  at  the  Nor- 
wich Grammar  School,  he  was  sent  up  to  London  to  study  painting, 
and  there  he  soon  became  a  companion  of  the  young  artists  who 
met  at  Dr.  Munro's.  The  doctor  was  a  philanthropist  who  did 
what  he  could  for  the  young  painters  by  opening  a  boys'  sketch 
club,  paying  the  members  something  like  a  half-crown  an  evening 
for  sketching,  and  giving  them  a  supper  in  the  bargain.  It 
was  here  that  Cotman  met  Girtin,  Turner,  De  Wint,  and  others. 
They  were  all  young.  Turner  and  Girtin  were  but  twenty-two, 
and  Cotman  only  fifteen.  Naturally  he  was  much  impressed  by 
the  two  older  students.  Girtin  was  his  admiration  as  regards 
method,  and  as  water-color  was  the  medium  of  them  all,  Cotman 
took  it  up  from  necessity.  The  medium  was  new  at  that  time,  and 
for  this  reason  alone  there  was  at  first  some  similarity  of  subject 
and  style  among  the  young  students ;  but  as  they  gained  in  facility, 
individuality  began  to  assert  itself,  and  the  individuality  that  seemed 
to  impress  Cotman  more  than  any  other  was  that  of  Turner. 

Cotman  never  outgrew  or  cared  to  outgrow  a  certain  bent  of 
mind  which  he  perhaps  got  from  Turner.  Possibly  a  love  for 
ideal  landscape,  towering  castles,  cathedral  spires  against  the  sun- 
set, mountains,  great  skies,  and  seas,  came  by  birth  to  both  painters. 
At  any  rate,  the  classic  composition,  with  all  its  lofty  sentiment  and 
color  splendor,  which  we  know  as  the  Turnerian  landscape,  was  an 
ideal  of  Cotman's  which  he  strove  to  realize  for  many  years.  It 
was  substantially  the  same  subject  and  the  same  point  of  view  in 


JOHN    SELL    COTMAN  1 53 

the  pictures  of  both  men,  but  differently  expressed  in  each  case  by 
virtue  of  an  individuality.  Cotman  was  no  imitator  of  Turner,  but 
he  saw  the  beauty  and  the  mystery  of  Turnerian  light,  distance, 
and  color,  and  naturally,  being  young  and  impressionable,  he  could 
not  help  being  influenced  by  them. 

In  method  Turner  was  not  Cotman's  ideal  at  all.  Girtin  was 
much  simpler,  more  luminous  and  transparent,  freer  in  his  handling, 
and  broader  in  his  masses  of  light  and  shade.  Cotman  accepted 
him  at  once,  soon  became  intimate  with  him,  went  with  him  on 
country  tours,  and  was  a  member  of  Girtin's  sketching  class,  to 
which  Turner,  being  sulky  and  unsociable  even  as  a  boy,  was  not 
invited.  When  Girtin  died  Cotman  was  only  twenty  years  old,  but 
the  teachings  of  the  older  man  had  made  a  lasting  impression. 
Cotman  never  forgot  them,  for  Girtin  was  his  only  master.  If 
one  were  writing  his  artistic  lineage  in  a  catalogue,  it  would  not  be 
far  from  the  truth  to  put  him  down:  "Pupil  of  Girtin,  influenced  by 

Tyy 
urner. 

Cotman  made  such  rapid  progress  in  handling  the  new  medium 
that  at  eighteen  he  was  an  exhibitor  at  the  Royal  Academy.  He 
continued  to  exhibit  there  for  the  next  six  years.  His  drawings 
were  mainly  landscapes  in  Surrey  and  Wales,  whither  he  had  been 
on  sketching  tours.  In  1807,  with  his  artistic  bias  firmly  set,  he 
went  back  to  Norwich  and  joined  Crome's  local  society.  The 
following  year  he  exhibited  at  the  Norwich  exhibition  no  less  than 
sixty-seven  of  his  works,  and  in  181 1  he  became  president  of  the 
society ;  but,  for  all  that,  he  never  became  a  Norwich  painter  in  the 
sense  of  painting  landscape  like  Crome,  Vincent,  or  Stark.  The 
Cotman  conception  was  something  very  different,  something  more 
aspiring,  something  more  world-embracing.  The  man  was  a  Lon- 
doner by  education,  and  artistically  belongs  to  the  group  with 
Girtin  and  Turner. 

Cotman  married  early,  and,  with  a  family  to  support,  he  followed 
Crome's  example  and  taught  drawing.  Possessed  of  antiquarian 
tastes,  he  became  interested  in  architectural  work,  made  many 
etchings  of  Norman  and  Gothic  architecture  and  of  sepulchral 
brasses  in  Norfolk  and  thereabout.  These  were  published  in 
several  authoritative  volumes.  The  first  was  a  book  of  "  Etchings 
of  Ancient  Buildings  in  England,"  and  it  appeared  in  181 1.  Then 
followed  "Specimens  of  Norman  and  Gothic  Architecture  in  the 
County  of  Norfolk"  (fifty  plates),  "Architectural  Antiquities  of  Nor- 


154  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

folk"  (sixty  plates),  "Sepulchral  Brasses  in  Norfolk,"  "Antiquities 
of  St.  Mary's  Cathedral  at  Stourbridge."  Between  1817  and  1820 
he  made  some  trips  to  Normandy  with  his  friend  Mr.  Dawson 
Turner,  and  from  them  came  the  volume  of  "Architectural  Antiqui- 
ties of  Normandy,"  Turner  writing  the  text.  To-day  these  volumes 
of  etchings  have  value  as  illustration,  but  they  are  not  so  fine 
artistically  as  one  could  wish  for.  Cotman  followed,  or  tried  to 
follow,  Piranesi  in  etching;  but  his  work  is  dry,  mechanical,  and 
badly  printed  in  the  bargain. 

About  181 2  Cotman  moved  to  Yarmouth,  and  there  taught, 
etched,  and  painted  for  some  dozen  years.  After  that  he  returned 
to  Norwich,  gave  up  his  architectural  etchings,  and  devoted  himself 
to  painting  and  pupils.  He  was  not  encouraged  by  his  prospects 
in  Norwich,  and  he  suffered  much  from  depression  of  spirits,  which, 
indeed,  never  entirely  left  him  thereafter.  In  1834  he  was  appointed 
professor  of  drawing  in  King's  College,  London.  His  fellow-student 
Turner  possibly  had  something  to  do  with  the  appointment,  for, 
when  asked  who  was  the  man,  he  exclaimed  impatiently,  "  Why, 
Cotman,  of  course."  The  appointment  greatly  pleased  Cotman. 
He  moved  to  London,  was  elected  a  member  of  a  number  of  socie- 
ties, and  there  published  his  last  book  of  etchings,  a  "Liber  Studi- 
orum,"  in  emulation,  perhaps,  of  Turner's  effort.  Teaching  now 
took  up  much  of  his  time  (Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti  was  under  him 
as  a  pupil  for  a  time),  but  he  nevertheless  drew  and  painted  a  large 
number  of  pictures — some  of  them  a  trifle  flamboyant.  He  was 
never  quite  himself  after  his  return  from  Yarmouth,  and  he  died  — 
worn  out  with  constant  effort  and  disappointment — in  July,  1842. 
After  his  death,  his  drawings  were  sold  at  Christie's  for  only  a  few 
shillings  apiece.     Wherein  art  history  repeats  itself  once  more. 

A  man's  pictures  doubtless  speak  many  things  to  many  people, 
but  to  a  picture-lover  Cotman's  work  is  eloquent  of  cultivation, 
refinement,  sentiment.  He  was  a  man  of  education,  possessed  of 
knowledge  and  taste,  and  whatever  he  did  bears  the  impress  not 
only  of  culture  but  of  delicacy  and  thoughtfulness.  In  sentiment, 
mood,  or  feeling,  his  was  a  poetic  cast  of  mind — the  romantic-poetic 
at  that.  In  his  works  there  is  usually  a  something  hidden  that  he 
can  only  hint  at — the  mystery  of  dark  shadow  along  the  wood-road, 
the  haunting  sense  of  desolation  in  the  ruined  castle  on  the  hill, 
the  hoary  antiquity  of  the  cathedral  lifting  its  bulk  against  the 
sky,   the  loneliness  of  tossing  fisher-boats  under  the   moonlight. 


JOHN    SELL    COTMAN  1 55 

He  does  not  show  the  headlong,  furious  romanticism  of  Delacroix. 
There  is  no  brawl  or  noise  or  shock  of  dramatic  effect.  The 
romance  is  quiet,  but  it  pervades  every  tower  and  bridge  and  tree 
in  the  landscape.  Something  of  this  poetic  feeling  was  un- 
doubtedly the  inspiration  of  his  many  drawings  of  old  Norman  and 
Gothic  architecture,  of  his  Turnerian  compositions  with  mountain, 
castle,  and  waterfall,  of  his  dark,  flashing  streams  and  lonely  wind- 
mills and  silent  plains. 

Not  that  he  was  always  in  such  moods — not  that  he  was  for- 
ever exhibiting  the  romantic  imagination.  He  had  a  keen  eye  for 
the  realities  of  life  in  landscape,  and  occasionally  made  drawings 
that  are  comparable  to  those  of  Millet.  The  "  Breaking  the 
Clod,"  in  the  Reeve  collection  at  Norwich,  is  an  illustration.  The 
whole  scene,  from  the  toiling  horses  and  the  open  field  to  the  trees 
beyond  and  the  sky  above,  is  profound  in  its  observation  and 
masterful  in  its  naturalistic  drawing.  From  such  themes  he  could 
turn  gaily  away  to  do  the  "  Hay  Barge,"  which  is  only  an  atmo- 
spheric idyl,  or  the  "  Breakdown,"  where  light  is  focused  on  a  stone 
wall  as  in  a  Decamps,  or  the  interior  of  "  Trentham  Church,"  where 
the  eye  is  caught  and  held  by  the  beauty  of  color  in  the  pulpit- 
hangings.  A  man  of  sentiment  and  imagination,  he  was  also  an 
artist  with  a  shrewd  sense  of  the  decorative,  and  could  admire 
things  as  readily  for  what  they  looked  as  for  what  they  meant. 

Most  of  Cotman's  pictures  were  small  and  simple  in  motive 
(his  son  said  he  never  painted  a  large  picture),  and  the  bulk  of 
them  was  in  water-color.  The  medium  he  learned  so  early  was 
perhaps  his  best  means  of  expression.  He  handled  it  broadly  and 
suggestively,  never  in  any  petty  way ;  omitting  from  the  scene 
what  he  chose,  but  adding  nothing  to  it.  In  a  Millet  sense  again 
he  was  an  excellent  draftsman.  He  never  bothered  himself  with  the 
classic  line  of  Claude  or  Poussin,  and  cared  little  about  recording 
the  incidental.  It  was  his  object  to  put  down  the  large,  salient 
facts,  and  let  the  details  go  unnoticed.  All  his  lines  are  intended 
to  summarize  and  suggest  rather  than  to  realize  literally ;  and  in 
this  he  was  very  successful.  He  could  indicate  the  height,  mass, 
and  weight  of  a  cathedral,  the  heave  of  a  hill-ridge,  or  the  body 
and  depth  of  a  woodland  with  a  few  strokes  and  yet  with  the  most 
forceful  results.  It  made  little  difference  whether  he  worked  with 
the  brush,  a  reed  pen,  or  a  pencil.  The  "Wold  Afloat,"  with  its 
great  wind  (a  black-and-white  in  the  Reeve  collection),  is  just  as 


156  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

excellent  in  tree-  and  grass-drawing  as  the  "  Fishing-boats  off  Yar- 
mouth "  (the  oil-painting  which  Mr.  Cole  has  engraved)  is  excel- 
lent in  wave-drawing. 

Cotman's  light  was  something  that  changed  with  his  subject. 
In  his  early  pictures  he  fancied  a  white  light,  not  unlike  that  of 
Corot,  and  used  it  frequently  in  wood  interiors.  In  cathedral  pic- 
tures and  in  pictures  with  great  perspective  he  employed  a  wide 
sky  with  thin  cirrus  clouds  and  sunlight,  after  the  Turnerian  pattern. 
With  his  trip  to  Normandy  his  light  seems  to  have  grown  warmer, 
more  golden,  and  much  like  the  light  used  by  Bonington.  In  color 
he  was  at  first  inclined  to  be  somber,  using  many  grays  and  quiet 
tones ;  but  later  he  grew  more  florid,  and  in  such  drawings  as  the 
"  Flixton  Hall"  —  one  of  his  late  water-colors  —  he  seemed,  to  use 
his  own  word,  to  be  indulging  in  much  "frippery"  of  costume 
and  losing  himself  in  the  bizarre.  Here  again  he  is  a  reminder  of 
Bonington.  Oil-painting  he  did  not  take  up  seriously  until  after 
1808.  It  was  doubtless  owing  to  his  study  of  oils  that  his  color 
came  out  of  its  somber  stage.  Many  of  his  canvases  he  underbased 
in  yellow  or  pink,  which  gave  depth  and  richness  of  tone  to  such 
pictures  as  the  "  Breakdown "  and  the  "Chateau  in  Normandy." 
After  his  Normandy  trips  he  grew  still  warmer  in  color  and  tried 
many  high  flights,  but  they  were  not  always  successful. 

The  volume  of  his  work  was  large.  All  subjects  interested 
him.  At  one  time  he  painted  portraits,  called  himself  a  portrait- 
painter,  and  seemed  to  regard  landscape  as  something  by  the  way. 
His  versatility  was  quite  on  a  par  with  his  industry,  and  as  for  his 
styles,  he  had  too  many  to  trace  them  with  any  sureness.  His 
development  paralleled  rather  than  followed  Turner  ;  but  of  course 
he  never  possessed  Turner's  great  genius.  There  are,  however, 
many  painters  who,  without  "  splitting  the  ethereal  blue  "  of  sub- 
limity, have  produced  beautiful  art,  and  Cotman  was  certainly  one 
of  them. 

NOTES   BY   THE    ENGRAVER 

THAT  Cotman   reveals  a  sympathy  spective,  and  of  movement  also ;  for  these 

for  large  forms  and  simple  masses  vast  floating  shapes,  drifting  rapidly  in 

may  be  readily  seen  from  his  painting  of  the  wind,  one  feels  must  soon  give  place 

the  "  Fishing-boats  off  Yarmouth."     The  to  others.     It  is  one  of  those  breezy  days 

treatment  of  the  sky,  in  particular,  conveys  when  the  cloudy  canopy  of  the  heaven  is 

a  fine  feeling  of  space  and  of  aerial  per-  subject  to  great  and  swift  changes.     The 


JOHN    SELL    COTMAN 


157 


execution  here  follows  the  conception, 
and  is  loose  and  free,  attaining  consider- 
able brushiness  in  the  large,  luminous 
space,  as  I  have  endeavored  to  suggest 
in  the  engraving.  This  large,  bright  ex- 
panse of  sky  with  its  opposing  dark 
cloud  is  a  fine  touch  of  nature,  and  gives 
great  dignity,  almost  majesty,  to  the  com- 
position. That  the  concentration  of  light 
should  be  here,  and  that  it  should  be  of 
this  brilliancy  —  neither  more  nor  less  — 
was  all-important  to  the  vitality  of  the 
picture,  for,  in  relation  to  it,  the  water  re- 
ceives an  excellent  and  just  value,so  neces- 
sary to  its  character  of  weight  and  solidity, 
apart  from  its  superimposed  texture  of 
rippling  fluidity,  which  makes  so  simple 
and  powerful  a  contrast  to  the  quiet, 
airy  quality  of  the  sky.  There  is  a  tender, 
limpid  character  to  the  atmosphere  toward 
the  horizon  around  by  the  distant  ships. 
The  rowboat,  with  its  sailors  mounting 
the  wave  in  the  face  of  the  gale  and  flying 
spray,  is  a  fine  bit  of  original  seeing. 

The  size  of  this  painting  is  twenty-four 
and  three  fourths  inches  high  by  twenty- 
nine  and  a  half  inches  wide.  Its  general 
tone  is  a  warm  gray,  inclining  to  golden 
in  the  broad  masses  of  light.  This  pic- 
ture and  the  "  Mishap "  (or  "  Break- 
down," as  it  is  here  styled)  are  in 
the  Norwich  Castle  Museum,  of  which 
Mr.  James  Reeve,  the  author  of  a 
"  Memoir  of  Cotman,"  and  the  best 
authority  on  matters  pertaining  to  the 
Norwich  school  of  painters,  is  the  cura- 
tor. It  is  his  opinion  that  the  "  Mishap," 
with   its    companion    piece    the    "  Bag- 


gage Wagon,"  were  painted  about  the 
year  1830,  and  the  "  Fishing-boats  off 
Yarmouth  "  some  ten  years  earlier. 

As  in  the  "  Fishing-boats  off  Yar- 
mouth "  the  intention  is  not  so  much  the 
showing  of  an  event  as  the  depicting  of 
a  state  or  variety  of  weather, —  an  en- 
deavor to  seize  an  impression, —  so  in 
the  "  Mishap "  the  incident  is  nothing, 
the  real  object  of  moment  being  the  sen- 
sation that  is  sought  to  be  conveyed  of  a 
warm  and  humid  day  in  summer.  The 
atmosphere  is  still ;  the  trees  melt  dreamily 
into  the  hazy  sky,  standing  motionless, 
and  glistening  in  the  sun.  The  foreground 
bush  is  one  of  yellow  leaves,  and  glitters 
with  fine  effect,  giving  by  contrast  great 
depth  and  richness  to  the  cool  and 
somber  glade,  at  the  farthest  extremity 
of  whose  vista  the  light  breaks  softly 
through  the  trunks  of  the  trees.  Against 
this  shadowed  space  the  white  horse  with 
its  tumble-down  load,  in  the  full  sunlight, 
is  relieved  with  the  greatest  possible  ef- 
fect. The  shadow  of  the  bush  upon  the 
sunlit  wall  shows  a  weak  sun,  which  is  in 
accordance  with  the  veiled  softness  of 
the  fleecy  sky,  against  whose  broad  ex- 
panse of  light  the  whole  of  this  sunny 
corner  presents  a  faithful  value.  The 
whole  is  delicately  painted,  and  of  a  fine, 
warm  unity  of  tone.  It  is  a  small  pic- 
ture, its  size  being  sixteen  and  a  fourth 
inches  high  by  thirteen  and  a  fourth 
inches  wide.  These  two  pictures  were 
in  possession  of  Mr.  Colman  when  I  was 
kindly  granted  access  to  them  for  pur- 
poses of  engraving.  T.  C. 


SIR  THOMAS   LAWRENCE 


PORTRAIT    OF    MRS.    SIDDONS,    BY    SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE. 

NATIONAL    GALLERY,    LONDON. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE 
(1769-1830) 

THE  infant  prodigy,  so  frequently  met  with  in  the  annals  of 
English  art,  crops  out  once  more  in  Lawrence  —  the  last  of 
the  older  portrait-painters.  As  a  child  he  was  dandled  on 
the  public  knee  because  of  his  precocity  in  reciting  poetry ;  at  five 
he  was  "taking  likenesses"  for  a  moneyed  consideration;  and  at 
twelve  he  is  said  to  have  been  the  main  support  of  his  family. 
Raphael,  with  genius  at  his  back,  did  not  come  to  maturity  so 
quickly,  nor  did  Rubens,  triumphant  at  Antwerp,  hold  popular  ap- 
plause so  long ;  for  Lawrence  kept  his  admiring  public  to  the  last, 
and  was  something  of  a  marvel  both  as  man  and  boy.  His  whole 
career  was  brilliant,  yet  not  through  intrinsic  force ;  his  art  was 
very  successful  without  being  great ;  he  was  honored  and  praised 
down  to  his  grave,  and  yet  he  possessed  not  genius.  There  are 
men  who  achieve  popular  success  without  genius.  Lawrence  was 
one  of  them. 

The  father  was  the  son  of  a  Presbyterian  minister,  and  was 
decently  educated  and  bred  to  the  law ;  but  he  never  followed 
his  profession.  He  had  what  is  called  the  "  poetic  temperament," 
which  probably  accounts  for  his  runaway  match  with  a  vicar's 
daughter  and  his  failure  to  get  on  well  in  the  world.  He  was  at 
different  times  a  barrister  without  a  brief,  an  actor  without  a  part,  a 
keeper  of  the  White  Lion  Inn  at  Devizes  without  guests  enough  to 
make  it  pay.  When  young  Lawrence  was  three  years  old  his 
father  made  a  change  of  base,  and  moved  into  the  Black  Bear  Inn. 
It  was  here  that  the  boy  was  placed  upon  the  table  to  recite  Shak- 
spere  for  the  guests.  Here  also  he  developed  a  wonderful  gift  of 
making  portraits  in  pastel  of  the  passing  public.  A  guest  could 
■■  161 


1 62  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

have  a  portrait  painted  while  he  waited,  and  the  speed  of  the  artist 
was  not  less  remarkable  than  his  age.  The  Duchess  of  Devonshire 
and  Lord  and  Lady  Kenyon  were  among  his  early  sitters,  and  the 
record  is  preserved  that  Lady  Kenyon's  likeness  was  drawn  in  pro- 
file because,  as  the  child-artist  declared,  "her  face  was  not  straight." 
In  a  short  time  he  had  attracted  the  attention  of  Garrick,  Foote, 
Wilkes,  Burke,  Sheridan,  and  Johnson,  and  his  father  began  trav- 
eling with  him  about  the  neighboring  country,  and  exhibiting  him 
as  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  age. 

The  Black  Bear  proved  no  more  of  a  success  than  the  White 
Lion,  and  soon  the  Lawrences  moved  to  Bath.  Young  Thomas 
had  been  at  Oxford,  Weymouth,  and  other  places,  making  portraits 
at  a  guinea  a  head,  and  when  he  finally  came  to  Bath  he  was 
shortly  the  town  talk,  and  portraits  were  worth  a  guinea  and  a  half 
a  head.  The  great  Siddons  sat  to  him,  and  grew  fond  of  him  ;  he 
had  such  charming  manners  that  Sir  H.  Harpur  sought  to  adopt 
him,  and  his  youthful  appearance  was  so  handsome  that  William 
Hoare  wanted  to  paint  him  as  the  young  Christ.  No  wonder  that 
at  twelve  years  of  age  his  studio  was  the  haunt  of  fashion,  and  that 
he  himself  was  something  of  a  Bath  rage.  In  the  meantime,  while 
his  boyish  talent  for  drawing  had  been  fostered,  his  general  educa- 
tion had  been  neglected.  Some  local  schooling  came  to  him,  but  it 
was  slight.  The  elementary  studies,  with  a  little  Latin  and  a 
great  deal  less  Greek,  were  about  all  he  ever  achieved.  It  is  said 
that  the  boy  wanted  to  be  an  actor,  but  he  was  already  too  much 
of  a  success  as  a  painter  to  be  allowed  the  change.  Evidently  his 
family  had  no  notion  of  his  abandoning  the  lucrative  brush  for  either 
an  academic  education  or  the  stage. 

In  1787  Lawrence  went  up  to  London,  took  apartments  in 
Leicester  Square,  and  entered  the  schools  of  the  Royal  Academy. 
That  year,  though  only  eighteen,  he  sent  seven  pictures  to  the 
Academy  exhibition,  five  of  them  being  portraits.  He  had  met 
Reynolds  and  others  through  his  early  admirer,  Hoare  the  painter, 
and  his  affable  manners  had  almost  at  the  start  placed  him  in  good 
social  circles.  Just  how  it  was  brought  about  is  something  of  a 
mystery,  but  soon  nobility  was  patronizing  him,  and  finally  the 
Duke  of  York,  the  queen,  and  the  Princess  Amelia  sat  to  him.  At 
twenty-one  he  made  a  "  hit"  with  the  whole-length  portrait  of  Miss 
Farren,  afterward  Countess  of  Derby,  one  of  the  best  of  his  many 
portraits.     Then  he  bothered  himself  over  a  large  historical  canvas, 


THE    DUKE    OF    WELLINGTON,    BY    SIR    THOMAS    I   VWRENCE. 

COLl  i  01     LOR]      R0S1         Rl  .    LONDi  »N. 


SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE  1 63 

called  "  Homer  Reciting  the  Iliad  ";  and  a  little  later  he  returned  to 
the  Academy  exhibition  with  a  portrait  of  George  III.  In  the 
same  exhibition  appeared  a  portrait  of  the  Prince  of  Wales  by 
Hoppner,  and  that  was  the  beginning  of  a  struggle  between  the 
painters  that  ended  only  with  Hoppner's  death. 

At  times  during  the  years  of  rivalry  that  followed  there  were 
acrimonious  remarks  passed  along  the  line  from  Hoppner  to 
Lawrence;  but  the  latter  made  no  reply.  The  king  was  behind 
him,  and  he  could  afford  to  keep  silent;  and,  besides,  he  was  natu- 
rally a  polite  man.  At  twenty-two  his  Majesty  made  him  a  sup- 
plemental associate  of  the  Royal  Academy,  in  spite  of  the  rule  that 
no  one  under  twenty-four  could  be  elected  to  that  position;  and 
when  Reynolds  died  Lawrence  was  made  portrait-painter  to  the 
king.  Everything  now  seemed  to  favor  his  advancement.  He 
was  elected  a  member  of  the  Dilettanti  Society,  made  a  Royal 
Academician,  and  duly  installed  as  the  fashionable  portrait-painter 
of  the  day.  He  moved  to  Piccadilly,  set  up  an  establishment,  and 
again  tried  to  do  historical  canvases,  but  without  marked  success. 
His  portraits,  however,  were  not  abandoned.  He  was  a  success 
in  that  department ;  and  though  some  clients  left  his  studio  after 
the  scandalous  talk  about  him  and  the  unfortunate  Princess  of 
Wales,  he  had  sitters  enough,  and  to  spare.  He  went  on  painting 
Curran,  Eldon,  Thurlow,  Pitt,  and  others,  and  in  18 10,  when 
Hoppner  died,  he  had  the  entire  field  to  himself. 

Lawrence  had  never  been  out  of  England,  never  knew  Italy, 
the  mother  of  the  arts,  and  it  was  not  until  18 14  that  he  went  to 
Paris  to  see  the  art  treasures  that  Napoleon  had  collected  there. 
He  was  soon  recalled  by  the  prince  regent  to  paint  some  of  the 
allied  sovereigns  and  their  generals,  then  in  London.  Shortly 
afterward  he  was  knighted,  and  in  1818  was  sent  to  Aix-la-Cha- 
pelle,  where  the  European  rulers  were  assembled  in  congress,  to 
paint  the  portraits  of  the  chief  actors.  These  portraits  were  for 
the  Waterloo  Room  in  Windsor  Castle,  and  the  emperors  of  Russia 
and  Austria,  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  the  princes,  with  Metternich, 
Bliicher,  Wellington,  Platoff,  and  many  others,  sat  to  him.  He 
now  went  to  Vienna  to  paint  more  portraits,  and  to  Rome  to  paint 
the  Pope  and  Cardinal  Gonsalvi.  Everywhere  he  was  the  recipient 
of  honors  and  attentions,  and  at  Rome  he  was  received  as  a  second 
Raphael  —  almost  an  inspired  being. 

These  attentions  had  no  small  effect  upon   his   prospects  at 


164  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

home,  and  when  he  returned  to  London  he  found  that  he  had  been 
made  president  of  the  Royal  Academy.  The  king  was  dead,  but 
George  IV  continued  him  as  his  portrait-painter,  Oxford  made 
him  a  D.C.L.,  and  the  art  academies  of  Rome,  Florence,  Bologna, 
Venice,  Vienna,  and  even  of  Denmark  and  America,  began  elect- 
ing him  to  honorary  memberships.  There  never  was  a  painter, 
not  even  Titian,  who  received  so  many  honors  as  Lawrence. 
He  was  at  his  height,  but  still  the  golden  apples  fell  in  his 
lap.  In  1825  he  was  sent  to  Paris  to  paint  Charles  X  and  the 
Dauphin,  and  he  returned  with  the  ribbon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor. 
Every  year  some  new  distinction  was  pinned  on  his  coat-lapel, 
and  he  certainly  was  prosperous  in  all  ways  save  one.  He  could 
make  money,  but  he  could  not  keep  it.  His  prices  had  risen  from 
a  guinea  to  seven  hundred  guineas  for  a  portrait,  and  at  that  figure 
he  had  as  much  as  he  could  do ;  yet  somehow  he  was  always 
poverty-stricken.  He  said  himself  that  he  was  careless  of  money, 
and  his  contemporaries  record  that  he  gave  it  away  to  almost  any 
one  who  asked  it ;  but  whatever  the  reason,  the  result  was  apparent 
enough.  All  his  life  he  was  worried  by  financial  matters,  and  the 
worry  ceased  only  with  his  death  in  1830.  There  was  a  great 
funeral  over  him  as  he  was  laid  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral ;  but  he  left 
nothing  behind  him  except  his  name,  his  pictures,  and  a  collection 
of  drawings  after  the  old  masters. 

There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  much  of  Lawrence's  suc- 
cess was  due  not  alone  to  his  clever  brush,  but  to  his  polished 
manners  and  his  courtier  spirit.  He  early  became  a  man  of  the 
world,  with  a  proper  regard  for  people  of  quality.  He  knew  how 
to  defer  to  nobility,  how  to  speak  to  kings,  how  to  stroke  humanity 
with  the  grain.  As  late  as  1823,  when  he  was  P.R.A.  and  a 
famed  painter,  he  was  writing  to  Sir  William  Knighton  about  a 
portrait  ordered  by  the  king:  "  I  beg  you  to  throw  me  with  every 
sentiment  of  duty  and  reverence  at  his  Majesty's  feet  for  this  addi- 
tional distinction  which  the  king  confers  upon  my  pencil,  and  of 
the  grateful  happiness  for  the  subject  and  distinction  of  the  task 
which  his  feeling  beneficence  has  assigned  me."  The  gratitude  is 
a  bit  excessive,  it  may  be  thought,  but  Lawrence  knew  just  how 
much  his  sublimated  Majesty  would  stand.  It  was  a  famous  age 
for  thrift  following  fawning,  a  shallow  age,  with  George  IV  setting 
the  pace ;  but  Reynolds  and  Gainsborough  had  lived  through  one 
quite  as  bad,  and  still  maintained  an  independence.     Sir  Thomas 


SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE  165 

might  have  done  likewise  had  he  not  been  somewhat  shallow  in 
himself.  His  companions  thought  him  a  vain  man,  and  the  king 
was  good  enough  to  say  that  he  was  a  "  perfect  gentleman,"  by 
which  latter  token  we  may  be  sure  that  he  was  not  a  disturb- 
ing element  in  either  politics  or  art.  His  personal  character 
lacked  in  sturdiness,  in  assertiveness,  in  virile  force.  It  never 
occurred  to  him  to  fight  or  reform  anything,  and  there  was  so  much 
in  the  life  about  him  that  needed  reformation.  He  sat  still  and 
accepted  the  day  in  which  he  lived,  probably  thinking  it  better  than 
the  days  of  Pericles.  Almost  everything  about  him  was  pinchbeck, 
but  he  did  not  seem  to  realize  it,  for  he  himself  was  only  a  brilliant 
kind  of  plated  ware.  Not  but  what  he  had  skill  and  ability  of  a 
rather  high  order.  He  could  paint  a  picture  or  pay  court  to  a  lady 
very  cleverly  indeed.  His  love-affairs  were  almost  as  well  known 
in  London  as  his  pictures.  But  it  seems  that  in  his  heart  he  had 
neither  the  deep  love  of  art  nor  the  true  love  of  woman.  Both 
were  semi-fashionable  pursuits,  to  be  regulated  after  a  certain 
manner,  as  one  makes  a  bow  or  carries  a  walking-stick.  Art,  love, 
faith,  life,  were  mere  matters  of  form,  and  what  one  needed  was  not 
sincerity,  truth,  or  purpose,  but  the  correct  formula  of  style. 

A  mind  that  bothers  itself  largely  with  conventionalities  rarely 
discloses  great  originality,  and  a  painter  without  conviction  never 
plows  deep  in  art.  Lawrence  seldom  got  beneath  the  surface. 
Portraiture  was  to  him  largely  a  matter  of  some  nobleman  wishing 
a  "smart"  likeness  of  himself  in  pomatumed  hair,  Osbaldistone  tie, 
colored  waistcoat,  and  Hessian  boots ;  or  it  meant  her  ladyship  in 
white,  with  blue  ribbons,  short  waist,  and  puffed  sleeves,  posed  as 
an  innocent  young  thing  just  out  of  school.  Both  of  them  had 
clean  faces,  new  clothes,  and  engaging  smiles,  which  led  Camp- 
bell the  poet  to  say  that  Lawrence's  sitters  "  seem  to  have  got  in  a 
drawing-room  in  the  mansions  of  the  blessed,  and  to  be  looking  at 
themselves  in  the  mirrors."  Everybody  had  to  have  an  air  of 
tailoring  and  good  breeding  about  them,  as  though  born  to  circum- 
stances and  position.  Sir  Thomas  was  too  polite  to  paint  people 
otherwise  than  at  their  best,  and  what  he  thought  "  best"  we  to-day 
might  translate  "  prettiest." 

For,  besides  the  exactness  of  costume  and  pose,  he  could  some- 
how rub  a  quality  of  sentiment  into  his  sitters'  faces  that  showed 
the  inside  of  their  heads  was  quite  as  "pretty  "  as  the  outside.  This 
appears  noticeably  in  the  portraits  of  children,  with  the  celebrated 


1 66  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

"  Master  Lambton  "  in  the  lead.  They  are  so  artificial,  so  prig- 
gishly  unnatural,  that  one  turns  away  in  disappointment.  Gains- 
borough's children  are  much  more  honest,  and  the  children  of 
Reynolds  more  naive.  The  best  picture  of  this  type  that  Lawrence 
ever  painted  was  that  of  the  two  Calmady  children,  engraved  under 
the  name  of"  Nature."  In  that  picture  Lawrence  not  only  drew  a 
graceful  group,  but  he  really  got  the  children  (and  himself)  "  off 
guard,"  as  it  were.  The  double  portrait  which  Mr.  Cole  has 
engraved  is  another  fairly  successful  effort  at  the  joyousness 
of  young  girls.  There  is  little  fault  to  be  found  in  it,  and  yet, 
like  many  others  of  his  fair  sitters,  these  are  artful,  coquettish, 
soubrettish. 

His  ladies  of  quality  have  necks  as  long  as  Parmigiano's  Ma- 
donnas, and  eyes  as  languishing  as  Perugino's  saints.  One  of  the 
best  of  them,  the  "Countess  Gower  and  Daughter,"  is  just  a  little 
of  this  type  for  all  its  clever  painting.  The  turn  of  the  head  is 
sentimental,  and  the  mock-childishness  of  the  child  with  one 
shoe  off  and  one  still  on  is  just  the  straw's  weight  in  the  balance 
that  makes  for  affectation.  The  "Countess  of  Derby"  (Miss 
Farren)  is  an  early  picture,  and  has  escaped  affectation.  It  has 
been  criticized  for  the  anachronism  of  the  "  John  "  coat  and  the 
furs  in  a  summer  landscape,  but  the  criticism  is  hardly  worth  quot- 
ing. Reynolds  and  Gainsborough  painted  people  in  evening  cos- 
tume wandering  through  classical  woodlands,  but  no  one  ever  found 
fault  with  them  on  that  account.  Such  matters  are  of  no  conse- 
quence in  art.  Lawrence  was  painting  a  picture,  and  this  time  he 
painted  an  excellent  one.  Indeed,  one  may  recall  many  examples 
of  Lawrence's  portraiture,  such  as  the  "  Lady  Dover,"  or  the  sad- 
faced  "Mrs.  Siddons,"  that  seem  excellent  in  every  respect;  and 
yet,  in  spite  of  these,  the  general  statement  holds  true  that  he 
painted  the  artificial  and  the  pretentious  much  oftener  than  the 
frank  and  the  natural. 

It  is  just  so  with  his  portraits  of  men  ;  they  are  not  positive  or 
sturdy ;  and  yet  to  confute  such  a  statement  one  has  only  to  think 
of  the  worn,  tired,  lion-like  repose  of  the  "Warren  Hastings"  in 
the  National  Portrait  Gallery,  the  forceful  "Sir  Joseph  Banks" 
in  the  British  Museum,  or  the  alert,  clear-cut  "Wellington"  belong- 
ing to  Lord  Rosebery.  With  these  pictures  in  mind,  one  grows 
enthusiastic,  and  is  disposed  to  think  Lawrence  a  really  great 
painter;   but  a  trip  to  Windsor  Castle  is  fatal  to  such  an  idea. 


THE    SISTERS,    U\     SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE. 


COLLECTION    OF    CHARLES    CREWS,    ESQ.,    LONDON. 


SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE  1 67 

Time  after  time  in  the  Windsor  rooms  he  prettifies  a  strong  head, 
and  produces  only  a  dinner-plate  portrait.  And  royalty  there  fares 
no  better  than  others.  The  Georges  are  pompous  spectacles  in 
white,  the  Princess  Sophia  shrieks  in  red,  and  Metternich  is  a 
pattern  in  gold  lace. 

The  contradictions  of  Lawrence  are  bewildering.  If  judged  by 
his  best  work,  he  must  be  ranked  high ;  if  by  his  general  average, 
then  he  must  be  placed  below  Reynolds,  Gainsborough,  and  per- 
haps Romney.  No  one  of  his  times  swung  to  quite  such  ex- 
tremes of  excellence  and  mediocrity,  success  and  failure.  He  had 
more  skill,  perhaps,  than  mental  grasp,  and  could  execute  better 
than  he  could  plan.  His  inconsistencies  and  curious  judgments 
about  art  and  artists  are  as  indicative  of  the  man  as  his  work.  He 
gave  out,  for  instance,  admiration  for  the  Elgin  Marbles  and  Canova 
in  the  same  breath,  as  though  the  maker  of  the  one  was  on  a  par 
with  the  other.  He  ranked  Michelangelo  among  the  gods,  and 
yet  was  quite  willing  to  place  Fuseli  on  his  right  hand.  Doubtless 
the  Elgin  Marbles  and  Michelangelo  suggested  a  mentality  far 
beyond  him,  but  in  Canova  and  Fuseli  he  recognized  a  clever  tech- 
nical skill  that  he  thoroughly  understood  and  might  himself  equal 
if  not  surpass.  Most  of  Lawrence's  ability  was  of  the  Canova- 
Fuseli  kind.  He  had  no  comprehensive,  far-reaching  mind,  but  his 
hand  was  very  cunning  and  frequently  produced  portraiture  of  no 
mean  order. 

Where  and  how  he  got  his  skill  —  and  he  had  plenty  of  it — no 
one  knows.  He  seems  to  have  picked  it  up  by  the  wayside  and 
given  it  a  final  rub  at  the  Royal  Academy.  He  never  went  to 
the  Continent  until  too  late  to  profit  by  foreign  pictures,  and  it  is 
remarkable,  in  the  circumstances,  that  he  drew  and  painted  so  well. 
His  early  attempts  at  the  historical  canvas  were,  of  course,  not 
successful.  His  "Satan  Calling  his  Legions"  was  likened  by 
Anthony  Pasquin  to  "a  mad  sugar-baker  dancing  naked  in  a  con- 
flagration of  his  own  treacle  ";  and  even  his  friend  Fuseli  said  that 
"it  was  a  d — d  thing  certainly,  though  not  the  devil."  The  criti- 
cism is  brutally  frank,  but  not  quite  true.  The  picture  is  not 
lofty  enough  in  conception,  but  it  is  well  drawn  and  painted.  He 
did  better  with  his  half-historical  pieces,  like  "Kemble  as  Hamlet"; 
but  portraiture  was  his  proper  field.  In  his  day  he  stood  quite 
alone  in  it,  producing  the  "  column  and  curtain "  picture  to  the 
last  with   much   elegance,   if   not   always  with    good    taste.      He 


l68  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

could  compose  a  portrait  group  very  well,  and  execute  it  with 
a  great  deal  of  dash,  as  many  of  his  works  bear  witness  to  this 
day.  Indeed,  Lawrence  technically  was  rather  a  fascinating  work- 
man. He  was  a  very  good  draftsman.  His  brothers  of  the  craft 
praised  his  drawing  of  eyes  and  hands,  and  the  portrait  of  the 
Cardinal  Gonsalvi,  or  that  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  shows  that 
he  knew  how  to  model  a  face  with  firmness.  His  early  habit  of 
drawino-  in  crayons  was  doubtless  of  service  to  him,  and  after  he 
took  up  oils  he  still  continued  to  draw  the  model  in  crayon,  adding 
the  color  last  of  all.  Perhaps  this  method  of  securing  drawing 
allowed  him  the  greater  freedom  in  his  brush-work.  Certainly  he 
was  the  most  facile  of  all  the  English  portrait-painters,  running 
on  at  times  into  a  superficial  and  ineffectual  glibness  and  producing 
textures  porcelain-like  in  their  smoothness. 

In  color  Sir  Thomas  was  not  remarkable,  though  usually  pleas- 
mo-  in  warm  hues  tempered  by  whites,  blues,  and  grays.  His 
color  was  not  always  true  in  value,  because  of  his  arbitrary  way  of 
driving  light  toward  the  center  of  the  canvas.  He  usually  focused 
the  light  upon  the  face,  darkened  the  foreground  and  background, 
and  thus  secured  an  effective  high  light  by  contrast.  The  fact  that 
he  sacrificed  color  in  shadow,  and  that  his  tone  was  not  true,  may 
be  something  shocking  to  the  realists  and  literalists,  but  Lawrence's 
portraiture  gained  rather  than  lost  by  it.  It  was  no  new  device  in 
painting.  Rembrandt  before  him  had  proved  its  effectiveness,  and 
Sir  Joshua  had  practised  it. 

Lawrence  started  portrait-painting  in  the  manner  of  Reynolds, 
whom  he  greatly  admired,  and  many  of  his  best  works  were  done 
before  he  was  twenty-five.  After  he  became  popular  he  was  hur- 
ried. During  his  life  he  sent  over  three  hundred  and  eleven  pic- 
tures to  exhibitions  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  this  represented 
but  a  small  part  of  his  labors.  Naturally,  under  such  stress  he 
grew  somewhat  careless.  His  method  became  a  formulated  facility 
and  his  style  stiffened  into  a  manner.  Toward  the  last  his  cream- 
whites  changed  to  cold  whites,  his  modeling  outgrew  its  solidity, 
his  textures  became  velvety  and  his  handling  slippery. 

He  came  at  a  pretentious  period,  and  had  a  pretentious 
monarch  to  dictate  taste ;  and  perhaps  the  wonder  is,  or  should  be, 
that  he  did  so  well.  The  best  period  of  English  portraiture  had 
passed  with  Reynolds,  and  Lawrence  was  the  "  singer  of  an  empty 
day,"  somewhat  like  Tiepolo  after  Paolo  Veronese.      But  Tiepolo 


SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE 


169 


has,  not  without  reason,  many  admirers,  and  Lawrence,  too,  can 
claim  a  following  even  to  the  present  time.  His  immediate  pupils, 
like  Etty  and  Harlowe,  rather  exaggerated  his  shortcomings,  but  in 
more  recent  times  many  portrait-painters  have  taken  large  hints 
from  Lawrence  and  paid  him  the  compliment  of  imitation.  Even 
the  Frenchmen,  with  Carolus  Duran  in  the  lead,  have  not  studied 
his  work  in  vain,  and  a  number  of  prominent  American  painters  of 
the  present  day  might  be  mentioned  as  gathering  inspiration,  at 
least,  from  the  same  quarter.  Sir  Thomas  was  not  without  his 
virtues,  but  he  was  so  cumbered  with  inequalities  and  inconsis- 
tencies that  any  attempt  at  an  appreciation  ends  in  something  like 
contradiction.  It  may,  however,  be  said,  in  a  general  way,  that  his 
conceptions  were  not  lofty  or  very  original,  that  his  sentiment  was 
sentimentality,  his  method  somewhat  flashy,  his  execution  ani- 
mated, vivacious,  and  quite  worthy  of  applause.  And  to  every 
one  of  these  statements  an  exception  may  be  taken. 


NOTES   BY   THE    ENGRAVER 


THE  portrait  of  "  Lady  Derby  "  (Miss 
Farren,  the  actress)  is  at  Houghton 
Hall,  the  residence  of  Lord  de  Grey 
Wilton,  near  Massingham.  It  is  a  large 
canvas,  the  figure  being  life-sized.  We 
were  allowed  to  remove  it  from  its  place 
over  the  mantelpiece  of  the  dining-room 
to  a  more  favorable  light  for  photograph- 
ing. After  obtaining  an  excellent  photo- 
graph, and  retouching  it  carefully  from 
the  original,  the  picture  was  engraved 
from  this  retouched  photograph. 

As  an  example  of  coloring  and  tech- 
nique, this  portrait  ranks  among  the  finest 
by  the  artist.  Its  tone  is  so  pure,  deep, 
and  fresh  !  It  owes  this  peculiar  quality 
in  great  measure  to  its  spontaneity  of 
handling  —  its  dexterity.  The  tone  of  its 
deep  blue  sky,  which  plays  so  important 
a  feature  in  the  composition,  is  magnifi- 
cent —  not  alone  in  its  warm,  soft,  and 
lustrous  quality,  reminding  one  of  the 
Venetians,  but  in  its  atmospheric  feeling, 
its  aerial  depth  and  subtlety  of  modeling, 


and  its  gentle  gradation  to  the  horizon  as 
it  becomes  flushed  with  orange  and  rosy 
hues.  This  is  in  perfect  harmony  with 
the  quietude  of  the  landscape.  The  trees 
are  painted  with  fullness  and  breadth; 
they  are  grayish  green  in  color,  warm, 
liquid,  and  they  soften  mysteriously  into 
the  sky  and  the  dusky  shades  that  are 
stealing  over  the  earth.  Against  the  mas- 
terful and  subdued  treatment  of  the  back- 
ground, its  quietness  and  aerial  supple- 
ness, the  figure  stands  out  with  pleasing 
and  vivacious  effect.  This  effect  is  due 
as  much  to  the  contrast  of  its  technique 
as  of  its  color ;  yet  while  this  gives  vigor 
of  relief,  its  unity  with  the  background  — 
its  mystery  of  enveloping  air  and  light  — 
is  not  disturbed.  Notice  the  variety  of 
its  contour,  its  innumerable  subtle  Mend- 
ings and  delicate  accents,  in  the  outline 
of  the  hair  particularly.  The  gray  silk 
cloak  bordered  with  brown  fur,  the  dress, 
gray  also,  the  brown  muff  and  boa  of 
similar  color,  and  the  brown  kid  gloves, 


170 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


are  all  astonishing  for  the  ease  and  skill 
of  their  execution.  But,  above  all,  nothing 
could  engage  the  attention  more  than  the 
way  the  look  of  life  is  caught  in  the  face  — 
the  glance,  answering  so  well  to  the  gesture 
of  the  whole  person.  One  can,  before  the 
original,  enjoy  these  things  for  a  long  time. 

This  master  work  was  painted  when 
the  artist  was  but  twenty-one  years  of 
age,  and  was  the  foundation  of  his  fame. 
Cunningham,  in  his  "  Lives  of  British 
Painters,"  thus  alludes  to  it :  "  This  was 
a  portrait  of  Miss  Farren,  afterward 
Countess  of  Derby.  She  was  very  beau- 
tiful, and  the  painter  caught  all  the  fasci- 
nation of  her  looks,  and  put  into  her  eyes 
a  luster  new  to  English  art.  In  other 
respects  there  was  a  strange  deficiency 
of  taste  and  propriety :  the  actress  was 
painted  in  a  winter  cloak  and  muff,  with 
naked  arms."  And  he  further  adds: 
"  The  public  praised,  but  criticism  was 
not  sparing.  Lawrence  was  astonished 
and  confounded  with  the  complaint  of 
want  of  propriety  in  the  costume."  L  <s 
evident  from  this  that  Cunningham  had 
not  seen  the  original,  but  depended  upon 
what  the  critics  said  for  his  knowledge 
of  the  costume.  Poor  Lawrence  may 
indeed  well  have  been  "  astonished  and 
confounded"  at  the  unjustness  of  the 
criticism  which  spoke  of  "  naked  arms" ! 

The  portrait  of  the  two  sisters 
represents  Sarah  and  Charlotte  Hardy, 
differing  only  by  a  year  in  their  re- 
spective ages.  Sarah  was  born  in  1780, 
and  was  married  at  twenty-one  years  of 
age  to  the  Rev.  Daniel  Lysons,  rector 
of  Rodmarton,  author  of  "  The  Envi- 
rons of  London,  N."  She  died  in  1808. 
Charlotte  was  born  in  1781,  and  married 
Ralph  Price  of  Sydenham  (second  son  of 
Sir  Charles  Price,  first  baronet).  She 
lived  till  1850.  They  were  daughters  of 
Colonel  Thomas  Carteret  Hardy.  I  am 
indebted  for  this  information  to  a  col- 
lateral descendant  of  the  lovely  pair — 
Mr.  W.  J.  Hardy  of  London. 


It  has  been  said  in  reference  to  the 
portraits  of  Lawrence  that  "  in  manliness 
he  had  rivals,  in  loveliness  he  had  none"; 
and  certainly  if  we  turn  from  his  faces  of 
the  sterner  sex  to  those  of  his  fair  maids, 
we  might  think  with  the  poet  Burns : 

His  prentice  han'  he  tried  on  man, 
And  then  he  made  the  lasses! 

There  is  an  elegance,  refinement,  and 
airy  gracefulness  that  is  engaging  in  the 
harmony  of  this  captivating  couple.  In 
the  first  place,  nothing  could  be  happier 
than  the  charm  of  the  composition  that 
unites  the  two  in  one  circle  of  light.  The 
arm  of  the  girl  in  black  velvet,  who  leans 
affectionately  with  clasped  hands  upon 
the  shoulder  of  her  sister,  is  of  vital  im- 
portance in  linking  the  two  and  forming 
a  whole  of  the  mass  of  the  light  at  the 
same  time  as  serving  to  accentuate  the 
sentiment  of  the  bond  of  loving  union. 
How  delightfully  the  warm  and  intimate 
nature  of  the  one  is  offset  by  the  sweet 
pensiveness  of  the  other!  A  powerful 
contrast  is  also  secured  by  arranging  one 
in  white  and  the  other  in  black.  Every- 
thing, in  short,  about  this  portrait-piece  is 
studied  for  effect  and  expression,  and  sim- 
plicity is  not  the  least  means  to  the  attain- 
ment of  this  end. 

The  tone  of  the  whole  is  golden. 
There  is  no  pronounced  coloring  in  any 
part,  but  the  eye  takes  in  on  the  first  im- 
pression a  warm,  radiant,  and  delicate 
ensemble.  It  is  pitched  in  a  delicate, 
tender  key,  and  with  an  eye  to  its  impres- 
sionability as  a  whole ;  but  if  we  examine 
its  parts,  we  shall  find,  to  begin  with,  that 
the  background  curtain  is  of  a  soft,  neutral 
tone  of  maroon,  blending  imperceptibly 
into  the  gray  of  the  pedestal  behind  the 
girl  in  white,  and  softening  on  the  other 
side  into  the  warm  gray  of  the  evening 
sky  with  its  fine,  characteristic  touches  of 
golden  streaks  of  light  toward  the  horizon; 
and  this  part  loses  itself  mysteriously  in 


LADY    DERBY    (MISS    FARREN),    BY    SIR   THOMAS    LAWRENCE, 


I ACTION    OF    LUKU    I  'I-     I        '    i 


SIR    THOMAS    LAWRENCE 


I7I 


the  tones  of  the  foliage  that  form  so  de- 
lightful a  background  to  the  girl  in  black 
velvet.  How  subtly  this  black  velvet 
seems  to  grow  out  of  the  background ! 
And  then  it  is  far  from  anything  ap- 
proaching black,  but  is  warm  and  lumi- 
nous, and  appears  deep  and  lustrous  only 
in  relation  to  the  ensemble.  The  gar- 
ment carelessly  thrown  over  the  knee  is 
likewise  of  a  rich,  delicate,  and  unobtrusive 
tone,  of  an  ocher  shade  very  much  grayed. 
The  white  garment  of  the  other  girl  is 
mellow  and  yellowish  in  tone.  It  was  a 
formula  with  Lawrence  that  the  ascen- 
dancy of  white  objects  can  never  be  de- 
parted from  with  impunity  in  portraiture, 
and  thus  we  always  find  in  his  canvases 
a  pretty  considerable  portion  of  this  neg- 
ative element  —  far  from  negative,  how- 
ever, for  he  held  as  equally  important 
the  truth  of  the  union  of  color  with  light, 
and  demonstrated  in  practice — if  not  in 
theory  —  the  dictum  of  Sir  Joshua  that 
"  the  masses  of  light  in  a  picture  should 
always  be  of  a  warm,  mellow  color." 

Of  all  Lawrence's  female  portraits,  that 
of  the  actress  "  Mrs.  Siddons  "  is  the  most 
popular  as  well  as  the  most  charming. 
Cunningham  observes  that  "  it  was  per- 
haps well  for  the  fame  of  the  artist  that 
the  nature  of  his  studies  called  him  fre- 
quently to  use  his  skill  on  faces  which 
had  intellectual  as  well  as  external  loveli- 
ness to  recommend  them."  And  he  in- 
forms us  that  "  Sir  Thomas  bestowed 
great  pains  on  his  female  portraits,  and 
took  advantage  of  every  circumstance 
that  could  contribute  to  their  attraction." 
We  can  understand,  therefore,  why  he  made 
use  of  a  kind  of  wimple  about  the  head 
and  chin  of  the  fair  lady.  That  part 
of  it  beneath  the  chin  serves  admirably, 
by  the  reflection  it  catches,  to  illumine 
what  otherwise  would  be  a  dark  shadow 
similar  to  that  beneath  the  nose;  but  the 
vague  softness  and  delicacy  which  it  now 
possesses  gives  a  pleasing  variety  to  the 
features   and    contributes   greater   value 


to  the  upper  part,  especially  to  the  eyes — 
which  were  evidently  designed  to  be 
speaking. 

About  Lawrence's  painting  of  eyes : 
Fuseli,  it  is  said,  swore  passionately  that 
they  rivaled  those  of  Titian,  but  I  do 
not  think  they  should  be  thus  compared. 
Lawrence  here  has  given  great  brilliancy 
to  the  eyes,  and  even  descends  to  the 
minute  circumstance  of  showing  the 
moisture  glistening  upon  the  white  of  the 
eye  and  glinting  upon  the  lower  lid, 
which  is  purely  a  piece  of  "  chic,"  and 
unlike  anything  that  I  can  remember  in 
the  portraits  of  the  great  Venetian. 

"  Ah ! "  exclaims  one  of  a  party  of 
Americans,  halting  before  the  portrait 
of  the  famous  actress  where  it  hangs 
in  the  National  Gallery,  "  a  beautiful 
woman  is  a  picture  which  drives  all  be- 
holders nobly  mad  !  "  His  friend  replies  : 
"  What  's  the  character  she 's  in,  that  her 
head  's  bound  up  so  ?  or  has  she  got  the 
mumps  ?  " 

The  painting  is  life-sized,  on  canvas,  and 
measures  two  feet  six  inches  high  by  two 
feet  one  inch  wide.  It  belongs,  in  style, 
to  the  artist's  earlier  manner.  Cunning- 
ham observes  that  in  his  earlier  paintings 
he  used  white  of  a  warm,  creamy  color, 
and  in  this  instance  the  white  is  most 
decidedly  of  this  nature.  It  will  be 
noticed  that  its  value  in  black  and  white 
is  no  different  to  the  tone  of  the  flesh. 
In  his  later  works,  however,  the  white 
became  more  pronounced.  Of  the  great 
colorists  the  artist  preferred  those  who 
pronounced  their  white  in  a  positive 
manner,  making  it  tell  distinct  from  other 
tints  as  a  perfect  white ;  and  he  acted  upon 
this  in  his  very  latest  productions,  which 
consequently  have  more  the  force  of 
nature  and  are  as  modern  as  the  best  of 
the  present-day  work. 

It  is  said  that  Sir  Joshua,  who  was  at 
the  fag-end  of  his  career  when  Lawrence 
was  just  budding  forth,  remarked,  when 
he    saw  the    youth's    portraits :    "  This 


172 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


young  man  has  begun  at  a  point  of  ex- 
cellence where  I  left  off." 

Chief  among  Lawrence's  portraits  of 
men  is  the  bust  of  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton, owned  by  Lord  Rosebery.  This 
canvas  was  painted  in  182 1,  when  the 
artist  was  fifty-two  years  old  and  at  the 
height  of  his  popularity.  It  is  life-sized, 
and  shows  the  duke  at  fifty-two  years  also. 

Lord  Rosebery  says  it  was  given  by 
the  duke  to  General  Arbuthnot.  On  the 
back  Wellington  has  twice  written  his 
name,  with  the  date  "  Dec.  13th  182 1  "; 
and  on  its  lower  part  is  the  following  in- 
scription (doubtless  in  General  Arbuth- 
not's  handwriting) :  "  An  admirable  like- 
ness. Charles  Arbuthnot."  It  was  ex- 
hibited at  the  Royal  Academy  in  1822, 
and  afterward  at  the  British  Institution 
in  1845,  by  General  Arbuthnot.  The 
picture  was  sold  at  the  sale  of  the  gener- 
al's effects,  on  June  29,  1878,  for  eight 
hundred  and  fifteen  guineas,  to  a  Mr. 
Davis,  from  whom  Lord  Rosebery  prob- 
ably bought  it. 

In  the  dignity  and  animation  of  this 


refined  head  the  gentleman  is  visible  first 
of  all.  Here  is  a  countenance  of  power- 
ful intellect  and  fine  symmetry,  of  that 
beauty  which  belongs  to  thought  and 
calm  reflection,  which  discloses  at  the 
same  time  a  distinction  of  bearing  and 
nobility  of  mien,  with  the  simplicity  and 
graciousness  of  manner  that  one  might 
expect  to  meet  with  in  a  Marcus  Aurelius 
—  a  greatness  of  soul,  in  short.  The  artist 
has  rendered  the  unseen  by  the  seen. 

This  portrait  belongs  to  the  painter's 
later  style,  and  evinces  his  more  pro- 
nounced treatment  of  white ;  it  is  livelier, 
and  tells  with  more  of  the  force  of  nature 
against  the  tone  of  the  flesh.  The  whole  is 
a  rich  piece  of  coloring.  The  tone  of  the 
black  cloak  in  its  broad  lightingisrendered 
with  delicacy  and  breadth,  and  the  con- 
tours float  subtly  into  the  warm  tones  of 
the  background  here  and  there  with  the 
truth  of  nature.  The  construction  of  the 
head,  its  fine  modeling  and  exquisite  deli- 
cacy and  force  of  relief,  are  qualities  that 
place  it  among  the  artist's  finest  efforts. 

T.  C. 


JOSEPH    MALLORD  WILLIAM 
TURNER 


CHAPTER   XIV 

JOSEPH    MALLORD    WILLIAM    TURNER 

(1775-1851) 

IT  has  been  remarked  more  than  once  that  the  most  passionate 
poets  of  the  country  are  usually  born  and  bred  in  the  city.  The 
farmer's  boy,  whistling  his  way  afield  behind  his  cows,  looks 
upon  river,  forest,  and  mountain  as  commonplace,  every-day  facts ; 
but  the  London  prentice,  who  sees  them  only  on  a  bank-holiday, 
overlooks  the  facts,  and  feels  the  immensity  and  the  mystery  of 
nature.  The  distant  and  the  unknown  are  always  hedged  about 
by  romance,  and  often  the  warmed-up  imagination  turns  fact  into 
fancy,  and  makes  of  common  clay  the  airy  castles  of  dreamland. 
Certainly  Turner,  the  son  of  a  London  barber,  looked  upon  nature 
in  some  such  way  as  this.  As  a  boy  he  knew  the  grimy  streets  of 
London,  and  saw  landscapes  only  in  shop-windows.  Later  on,  at 
school,  he  caught  glimpses  of  the  Thames  at  Brentford,  and  of  the 
sea-shore  at  Margate.  He  was  dreaming  fond  fancies  then,  and 
when  he  grew  up  and  was  able  to  travel  and  study,  he  still  saw 
nature  as  in  a  vision.  In  his  art  it  was  only  a  peg  upon  which  he 
hung  his  own  conceptions  of  form  and  color.  From  beginning  to 
end  he  built  Kublai-Khan  palaces  and  grew  Hesperidian  gardens 
along  the  heights  of  Alban  mount  and  Carthaginian  promontory. 
He  was  a  great  romanticist  in  his  mood  of  mind,  and  he  ended  by 
romancing  the  face  of  nature  out  of  all  countenance.  He  was  a 
great  poet  of  decorative  beauty,  and  again  he  ended  by  rubbing 
sunlight  and  shadow  into  mere  schemes  of  flamingf  color. 

Turner  was  born  in  Maiden  Lane,  London,  April  23,  1775. 
The  father  naturally  wished  the  son  to  succeed  him  in  the  barber- 
shop, but  he  yielded  gracefully  when  the  son  developed  art  tastes. 
"  Dad  never  praised  me  for  anything  but  saving  a  halfpenny,"  was 

175 


176  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

Turner's  remark.  Yet  the  father  was  always  a  proud  father,  and 
the  son  had  no  need  for  encouragement  in  saving  money.  At 
Brentford,  his  first  school,  he  colored  engravings  at  fourpence 
apiece,  and  later  he  hung  his  father's  shop  with  small  drawings  for 
sale  at  a  shilling  apiece.  He  was  always  looking  out  for  pecuniary 
compensation.  Indeed,  a  greed  of  gold  and  a  love  of  fame  were 
his  consuming  passions.  His  schooling  was  somewhat  erratic,  and 
his  elementary  education  was  in  correspondence  therewith.  At 
eleven  years  of  age  he  was  at  the  Soho  Academy,  where  a  Mr. 
Palice  was  officiating  as  drawing  master,  and  later  he  attended  a 
school  at  Margate.  After  he  was  thirteen  all  his  study  revolved 
about  art.  He  left  Margate,  and  was  placed  with  Thomas  Malton 
to  learn  perspective.  Turner  always  called  Malton  his  real  master, 
but  the  master  sent  the  pupil  home  as  unteachable.  After  that  he 
colored  prints  for  Raphael  Smith,  washed  in  the  backgrounds  of 
architectural  drawings,  and  was  advised  by  Thomas  Hardwick, 
another  one  of  his  masters,  to  take  up  the  painting  of  landscape. 

In  1789  Turner  entered  the  schools  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and 
was  allowed  in  Sir  Joshua's  painting-room,  where  he  copied  por- 
traits. The  next  year  he  made  his  first  appearance  as  an  exhibitor 
at  the  Academy  with  a  picture  called  "  The  Archbishop's  Palace  at 
Lambeth."  His  first  sketching  tour  was  probably  in  1792,  for  the 
next  year  he  exhibited  two  views  of  Bristol.  He  had  already  set 
up  a  studio  of  his  own  in  Maiden  Lane,  was  drawing  for  magazines, 
and  at  odd  times  traveling  on  foot  through  England  and  Wales. 
Girtin  was  possibly  his  companion.  They  were  boys  together, 
and  had  studied  nights  at  Dr.  Munro's,  making  drawings  with  Cot- 
man  for  "  half  a  crown  apiece  and  a  supper."  They  studied  there 
examples  of  Gainsborough,  Wilson,  Claude,  Salvator;  and  they 
copied  drawings  by  Sandby  and  Cozens.  The  influences  upon 
Turner  at  this  time  were  the  historical  landscape  and  the  work  of 
his  associates.  He,  later  in  life,  outgrew  the  landscape  formula ; 
but  he  never  got  rid  of  the  influence  of  Cozens  and  Girtin.  He 
himself  said  that  he  learned  more  from  Cozens  than  from  any  one 
else  ;  but  Turner  from  his  nature  was  not  one  to  be  taught  anything 
except  that  which  related  to  method.  The  water-color  bias  and  the 
technical  method  received  from  Cozens  and  Girtin  were  with  him  to 
the  end  of  his  days.  He  was  always  a  good  water-colorist ;  he 
never  was  a  satisfactory  painter  in  oils. 

At  twenty-four  Turner  was  made  an  associate   of  the   Royal 


JOSEPH    MALLORD    WILLIAM    TURNER  1 77 

Academy,  and  had  considerable  celebrity.  He  had  not  only  been 
industrious,  but,  working  with  great  rapidity,  he  had  developed  a 
wide  range  of  subjects.  There  were  landscapes  with  towns,  ab- 
beys, cathedrals,  bridges,  and  country-seats  each  purporting  to 
have  a  local  habitation  and  a  name ;  and  there  were  sea-pieces, 
battles,  fires,  and  plagues,  illustrative  of  history,  fiction,  and  the 
Bible.  By  the  year  1800  he  had  established  what  has  been  called 
his  first  style.  He  had  already  a  pronounced  liking  for  the  grand 
view  of  mountain,  plain,  and  valley,  with  a  glimpse  of  a  river  and  a 
castle  on  a  height.  He  had  painted  castles  in  England  and  Wales, 
and  he  had  also  gone  somewhat  out  of  his  way  apparently  to  paint 
the  "  Battle  of  the  Nile,"  "Jason,"  and  various  other  wholly  ima- 
ginary subjects.  His  preference,  however,  was  the  poetic  land- 
scape. This  in  method  was  careful,  detailed,  rather  subdued  in 
color,  and  fairly  accurate  as  to  facts,  though  at  this  early  time  he 
had  abundantly  proved  his  ability  to  pull  the  actual  scene  to  pieces 
and  reconstruct  it  after  his  own  fashion  upon  canvas.  Mr.  Hamer- 
ton,  in  his  biography  of  Turner,  makes  this  very  clear  in  his  convin- 
cing analysis  of  Turner's  "  Kilchurn  "  (1802).  The  medium  used  at 
this  time  was  largely  water-color,  but  he  was  also  painting  pictures 
in  oil. 

In  1802  he  was  made  a  Royal  Academician,  and  started  on  his 
first  tour  abroad.  How  many  times  he  went  to  the  Continent  no 
one  knows.  He  moved  about  silently  and  alone,  leaving  no  trace 
of  his  movements  save  in  his  drawings.  He  was  trying  to  outdo 
Claude,  Van  de  Velde,  Wilson,  Poussin  —  in  fact,  every  one  who  had 
ever  attempted  landscape.  He  had  begun  with  mountain  subjects 
taken  from  the  Savoy  Alps,  and  in  England  he  was  painting 
"  Lowther  Castle"  and  "  Petworth  "  to  please  noblemen,  and  the 
"  Sun  Rising  through  Mist "  as  a  study  in  light  and  air.  The  name 
and  great  reputation  of  Claude  seemed  to  bother  him,  and  in  1807 
he  deliberately  instituted  a  comparison  by  bringing  out  his  "  Liber 
Studiorum  "  and  matching  it  against  Claude's  "  Liber  Veritatis."  It 
was  an  unfair  contest.  Claude's  drawings  were  mere  studio  memo- 
randa ;  Turner's  were  finished  for  public  exhibition.  Turner's 
drawings  not  only  displayed  his  skill,  but  his  temper,  for  before  the 
engravers  finished  with  them  he  had  quarreled  with  almost  every 
one  concerned.  He  published  the  work  on  his  own  account,  and 
his  business  methods  were  severely  criticized,  but  that  did  not  faze 
him   in   the  least.      He  worked  on   the  plates  himself,   executing 


178  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

twelve  of  them.  The  first  plate  of  the  series  was  an  aquatint ;  the 
others  were  mezzotint  and  etching  combined  —  a  peculiarly  Tur- 
nerian  mixture.  Still,  the  "  Liber  Studiorum  "  made  up  a  notable 
portfolio  of  landscape,  and  showed  the  painter's  growing  power. 

Turner's  capacity  for  work  was  always  great.  In  1808  he  ac- 
cepted the  professorship  of  perspective  in  the  Royal  Academy, 
gave  indifferent  lectures,  but  was  able  to  illustrate  them  satisfac- 
torily, and  yet  never  stopped  designing  for  books,  magazines,  and 
portfolios,  and  painting  picture  after  picture.  The  "  Wreck  of  the 
Minotaur"  and  "  Abingdon  "  (18 10)  were  followed  by  the  "  Apollo 
and  the  Python"  (181 1),  "Hannibal  and  his  Army  Crossing  the 
Alps"  (1812),  "Frosty  Morning"  (1813),  "Dido  and  ^Eneas" 
(18 1 4).  It  was  about  this  time  that  he  began  appending  poetical 
quotations  to  his  pictures,  taken  from  an  alleged  poem  of  his  own 
concoction  called  "Fallacies  of  Hope";  and  it  was  at  this  time, 
too,  that  he  painted  one  of  his  favorite  pictures,  the  "  Dido  Build- 
ing Carthage"  (18 15).  His  great  advocate,  Mr.  Ruskin,  rightly 
enough  declared  it  a  "  nonsense  "  picture ;  but  Turner  thought  so 
highly  of  it  that  he  decreed  in  his  will  that  it  should  hang  beside  a 
large  Claude  in  the  National  Gallery,  that  all  the  world  might  see 
how  vastly  he  surpassed  the  ancient. 

The  climax  of  his  first  period  seems  to  have  been  reached  in 
"  Crossing  the  Brook"  (18 15),  a  picture  showing  much  knowledge 
of  landscape,  but  rather  indifferent  in  color  and  a  little  prosaic  in 
detail.  After  this  he  was  much  in  the  north,  making  designs  for 
Whitaker's  "  History  of  Richmondshire  "  ;  in  18 18  he  went  to  Scot- 
land to  illustrate  Scott's  "  Provincial  Antiquities,"  and  the  following 
year  he  was  twice  on  the  Continent,  and  for  the  first  time  visited 
Italy.  His  second  period  and  style  dates  from  the  Italian  visit, — 
about  1820, —  and  is  marked  by  a  greater  striving  for  grandeur  of 
composition,  stronger  light,  and  more  brilliancy  of  coloring.  The 
pictures  were  warmer,  fuller,  freer,  and  one  of  them,  the  "  Cologne," 
when  placed  on  exhibition  in  the  Royal  Academy  in  1826,  was  so 
bright  that  it  quite  "killed"  a  Lawrence  hanging  near  it.  The 
story  goes  that  Turner,  to  please  Lawrence,  dimmed  his  picture 
with  a  solution  of  lampblack,  and  then  washed  it  off  after  the  ex- 
hibition. Some  other  pictures  of  this  period  were  the  "  Bay  of 
Baiae"  (1823),  "Dido  Directing  the  Equipment  of  the  Fleet" 
(1828),  "View  of  Orvieto"  (1830),  and  about  the  same  time  the 
famous  "  Ulysses  Deriding  Polyphemus."     Turner  never  allowed 


■p 

1; 


JOSEPH    MALLORD    WILLIAM    TURNER  1 79 

his  brush  to  rest  without  taking  up  the  pencil,  and  wherever  he 
went  he  was  known  as  the  little  man  with  the  pencil  in  his  hand. 
His  production  was  enormous,  for  while  he  was  throwing  off  can- 
vas after  canvas,  he  was  also  making  drawings  for  the  "  Rivers 
of  England,"  the  "  Ports  and  Harbors  of  England,"  the  "  Rivers  of 
France,"  besides  illustrations  for  the  poems  of  Scott,  Byron,  Rogers, 
Milton,  Campbell. 

About  1830  he  must  have  visited  Holland,  for  he  began  exhib- 
iting sea-pieces  Dutch  in  subject;  and  about  1832  he  made  his 
first  visit  to  Venice.  Once  more  Italy  influenced  him  profoundly. 
Venice,  with  its  wandering,  unsubstantial  reflection  in  the  tide, 
and  its  fitful,  capricious  coloring,  seemed  to  intoxicate  his  esthetic 
sense.  The  spirit  of  his  work  became  more  dream-like  than  ever ; 
the  color  began  to  flame,  and  the  execution  to  wander.  Fantasy, 
subtlety,  mystery,  indefiniteness,  became  marked  qualities,  and  his 
third  manner  began  to  appear.  This  was  not  a  period  of  unrelieved 
decline,  as  we  have  been  told.  It  is  true  that  his  pictures  became 
more  vague,  more  obscure  in  meaning,  and  at  times  they  dropped 
into  sheer  weakness.  The  "  Golden  Bough"  (1834),  the  "  Ehren- 
breitstein"  (1835),  tne  "  Mercury  and  Argus  "  (1836),  the  "  Modern 
Italy"  and  the  "Ancient  Italy"  (1838)  are  all  of  them  somewhat 
confusing  and  unsatisfactory ;  but  the  fire  of  the  man's  genius  was 
not  burnt  out.  It  was  to  flame  higher  than  ever  in  the  celebrated 
"  Fighting  Temeraire"  (1839),  which  Mr.  Ruskin  thought  his  last 
effort  of  perfect  power ;  and  there  was  to  be  a  final  display  of  it  in 
the  "  Rain,  Steam,  and  Speed"  (1844),  a  picture  thought  by  artists 
to  be  the  painter's  best  effort 

Still,  there  can  be  no  question  of  Turner's  growing  erraticism 
after  1832.  He  was  failing,  becoming  incoherent,  and  the  shallow 
public  began  to  laugh.  "  Blackwood's  "  sneered  and  "  Punch  "  ridi- 
culed his  vagueness.  The  town  wits  spoke  of  his  "  Snow-storm  " 
as  "  Soap-suds  and  Whitewash."  Turner,  with  all  his  gruffness  and 
alligator  imperviousness,  felt  the  attacks  keenly  enough.  But  his 
fame  went  on  increasing  notwithstanding,  for  in  1843  the  first  volume 
of  "Modern  Painters"  was  published,  and  Ruskin's  eloquence 
made  a  stir. 

In  1842  Turner  was  ill,  and  by  1845  the  man  was  done  for 
artistically,  mind  and  sight  both  slowly  deserting  him.  There  fol- 
lowed a  few  years  of  weakness,  and  then  a  final  scene  for  which 
Turner  was  perhaps  not  mentally  responsible.      He  had  acquired 


l80  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

the  habit  of  disappearing  from  his  home  and  friends.  In  1851  he 
was  gone  longer  than  usual,  and  his  whereabouts  was  only  discov- 
ered through  a  letter  lodged  in  the  pocket  of  an  old  coat.  Search 
was  made  for  him,  and  the  great  painter  of  light  and  sky,  the  man  who 
had  lived  all  his  life  in  palaces  of  the  sun,  was  found  dying  in  a  dingy 
lodging-house  in  Chelsea,  where  he  was  stopping  with  a  Mrs. 
Booth,  whose  name,  for  some  unknown  reason,  he  had  assumed. 
Not  even  the  scandal-mongers  could  make  much  of  it,  for  it  was 
palpably  the  act  of  a  lonely,  half-demented  old  man.  The  day 
after  his  finding,  December  19,  1851,  he  breathed  his  last.  There 
was  a  large  funeral,  and  Turner  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's,  near 
Reynolds.  He  left  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand  pounds  to  be 
quarreled  over  —  one  thousand  pounds  of  it  for  his  own  monument. 
The  quarrel  was  compromised,  and  finally  the  Royal  Academy  got 
twenty  thousand  pounds,  and  the  National  Gallery  his  pictures  and 
drawings.  There  were  over  nineteen  thousand  studies  of  various 
kinds  found  in  his  studio.  His  life  had  been  devoted  wholly  to 
making  pictures  and  money,  and  he  had  been  successful  in  both 
pursuits. 

There  seems  little  in  Turner's  life,  aside  from  his  art,  that  is  not 
commonplace.  He  was  deaf  and  dumb  to  everything  but  painting. 
Literature,  philosophy,  science,  and  language  were  unknown  quan- 
tities to  him.  He  even  wrote  and  spoke  English  badly.  Illiteracy 
always  marked  him.  For  all  his  shrewdness  as  to  money  and  his 
genius  in  art,  he  remained  to  the  last  uneducated,  unpolished,  un- 
couth, ill-tempered.  There  was  something  of  inheritance  in  this, 
no  doubt,  for  his  mother  was  ungovernable  and  finally  insane. 
Certainly  Turner  drew  off  by  himself  more  and  more  as  he  grew 
older,  aware  that  he  was  not  fitted  for  society,  and  yet  too  proud  to 
admit  it.  Not  only  love  of  the  craft,  but  force  of  circumstances, 
seemed  to  center  everything  in  his  life  about  his  art.  He  must 
have  dwelt  in  his  own  landscapes,  studying  them,  brooding  over 
them,  until  they  grew  colossal,  unreal,  fantastic.  One  can  trace  in 
these  landscapes  the  expansion  of  his  imagination  —  the  start  with 
the  simple  aspects  of  nature,  the  gradual  enhancing  and  exaltation  of 
the  facts,  and  their  final  disappearance  in  bewildering  clouds  of  light 
and  color.  Commonplace  as  he  was  in  his  life,  he  was  in  his  art  a 
dreamer  of  such  dreams  as  poetry  is  made  of,  a  man  of  sublime  ima- 
gination, which  finally  overleaped  itself  and  fell  into  the  bizarre. 

Turner  artistically  cannot  be  understood  except  by  considering 


JOSEPH    MALLORD    WILLIAM    TURNER  l8l 

that  he  cared  for  only  two  things  —  his  own  conception  of  poetic 
landscape,  and  his  own  notion  of  what  constituted  good  form  and 
color.  The  Ruskinian  idea  that  he  loved  nature,  and  that  he  was 
only  a  humble  and  faithful  recorder  of  her  beauties,  seems  pecu- 
liarly misleading.  He  was  a  Londoner,  living  most  of  his  life  in 
his  studio,  and  going  out  to  nature  only  for  materials.  "  Pictures  !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Give  me  a  canvas,  colors,  a  room  to  work  in  with 
a  door  that  will  lock,  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  paint  pictures."  That 
sentence  speaks  the  painter  precisely.  He  carried  his  nature  in 
his  imagination,  and  he  painted  his  pictures  out  of  his  head.  He 
never  had  the  rural  feeling  of  a  Gainsborough  nor  the  love  of  lo- 
cality of  a  Constable.  His  landscapes  have  no  existence  in  nature. 
They  are  neither  English,  French,  Swiss,  nor  Italian  ;  they  are  Tur- 
nerian.  True  enough,  he  named  many  of  his  pictures  and  drawings 
after  English  and  Continental  places.  He  was  shrewd  enough  to 
know  that  a  local  title  often  "  sold  the  picture."  But  when  his  cli- 
ents and  admirers  visited  the  spot  and  tried  to  fix  the  point  of  view 
they  had  difficulty  at  once.  Why  ?  Because  the  pictures  were 
"compositions" — some  of  them  unadulterated  pictorial  fiction. 

Turner  was  no  machine  to  record  facts ;  he  cared  only  for  ef- 
fects. He  probably  distorted  and  falsified  more  facts  than  any 
painter  in  the  history  of  art.  One  cannot  think  of  anything  he  ever 
painted  which  is  completely  true.  Even  the  "  Frosty  Morning," 
which  Englishmen  swear  by  for  its  truth,  will  not  bear  analysis ; 
and  when  it  comes  to  the  really  great  "  Ulysses  and  Polyphemus," 
it  is  absolutely  impossible.  His  book-drawings  and  river  land- 
scapes are  picturesque  arrangements ;  his  grandiloquent  canvases, 
like  the  "  Mercury  and  Argus,"  the  "  Bay  of  Baiae,"  and  "  Caligula's 
Palace,"  are  false  in  form,  tone,  and  color;  and  he  never  did  a 
Venetian  piece  in  which  an  habitue  of  Venice  could  trace  topog- 
raphy. Yet  one  may  venture  to  say  that  Turner's  Venice  is  more 
Venetian  in  spirit  than  Venice  itself,  and  that  such  an  extravagance 
as  the  "  Ulysses  and  Polyphemus "  is  one  of  the  finest  pieces  of 
decorative  splendor  in  the  whole  range  of  painting.  Turner  know- 
ingly distorted  the  truth.  In  his  first  period  he  was  timid  about 
doing  so,  and  elongated  a  tower,  suppressed  a  light,  or  forced  a 
hue  half  apologetically ;  but  when  he  reached  his  climax  and 
started  upon  the  "  Ulysses  and  Polyphemus,"  he  seemed  to  have 
thrown  nature  to  the  winds,  and  said,  "  I  '11  paint  a  work  of  art." 
And  he  did. 


1 82  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

Of  course  such  an  attitude  toward  nature  is  quite  incomprehen- 
sible to  the  realist — the  man  who  sees  only  the  objective  facts  in 
nature.  And  yet,  shocking  as  it  may  sound,  it  is  the  proper  atti- 
tude of  mind  for  the  production  of  great  pictures.  Indeed,  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  Turner  succeeded  largely  by  virtue  of  disre- 
garding, even  falsifying,  nature.  His  position  was  substantially 
that  of  Michelangelo,  Delacroix,  and  Millet  —  the  final  position 
taken  by  all  geniuses.  There  is  a  struggle  for  years  to  express 
ideas,  emotions,  and  sentiments  through  the  established  conventions 
of  painting,  and  then  comes  emancipation  by  revising  or,  as  in 
Turner's  case,  by  defying  the  convention.  Laws  of  art  seem  made 
for  great  artists  to  ignore.  How  could  Turner  express  himself 
with  Gainsborough's  brown  trees,  Poussin's  leaden  skies,  or  even 
with  the  literal  forms  of  nature  itself?  Can  you  tell  the  mirage- 
like, floating  quality  of  Venice  seen  from  the  lagoons  by  exactly 
locating  the  Campanile,  San  Giorgio,  and  the  Salute?  Can  you 
give  the  opalescent  coloring  of  palace,  wave,  and  sky  by  painting 
pink  walls,  green  water,  and  red  sunsets  ?  Imagine  how  the  classic 
David  or  the  realistic  Bastien-  Lepage  would  have  painted  the 
"  Ulysses  and  Polyphemus,"  and  then  go  back  to  the  National  Gal- 
lery and  see  Turner's  picture,  with  its  rising  sun  barred  with  orange 
clouds,  its  far-reaching,  cirrus-flecked  sky,  its  mysterious  cobalt  of 
the  distant  sea,  its  blood-red  and  golden  waves  in  the  foreground, 
its  red-flagged  ship,  and  its  spectral  figure  on  the  mountain-top. 
You  may  laugh  at  it  as  nature,  if  you  please,  but  you  cannot  laugh 
at  it  as  art.  In  its  nobility  and  serenity  it  is  as  classic  as  vEschy- 
lus ;  in  its  decorative  splendor  it  is  as  Gothic  as  Shakspere.  Mea- 
sure it  with  a  realistic  yardstick,  and  then  you  may  as  well  break 
the  stick ;   for  the  picture  will  not  conform,  nor  will  it  be  cast  out. 

To  quarrel  with  Turner  because  he  did  not  record  like  a  Rous- 
seau or  a  Constable  is  to  miss  him  entirely.  The  facts  of  nature 
were  only  chessmen  which  he  placed  on  the  board  where  they 
would  produce  the  most  effective  results.  What  mattered  it  if 
trees  and  mountains  and  castles  were  lacking  in  truth  of  detail, 
provided  they  were  not  lacking  in  beauty  of  line  and  composition  ? 
In  the  presence  of  a  splendid  sweep  of  color,  why  cavil  about  truth 
of  tone  or  the  exact  placing  of  a  shadow  ?  He  knew  very  well  when 
he  forced  the  note  or  suppressed  it  entirely.  There  was  no  ignorance 
or  carelessness.  The  book  of  nature  and  the  book  of  art  he  under- 
stood better  than  almost  any  landscape-artist  of  any  time.      He 


"  "i"""-  '"'' ,  ;: 


JOSEPH    MALLORD    WILLIAM    TURNER  183 

simply  insisted  that  nature  should  play  a  subordinate  part  to  art  and 
express  his  meanings  —  speak  his  way  of  seeing  things.  And  there 
we  have  the  personal  element  in  art  so  predominant  in  the  artistic 
make-up  of  Michelangelo.  If  one  believes  with  Veron  that  art 
consists  in  the  individuality  of  the  artist,  then  there  can  be  no 
quarrel  with  the  painter  of  the  "  Ulysses  and  Polyphemus"  and  the 
"  Rain,  Steam,  and  Speed." 

In  accepting  Turner's  point  of  view,  it  is  not  necessary  to  go 
to  an  extreme  and  hail  his  distortions  of  fact  as  particularly 
fetching,  newly  discovered  truths.  Mr.  Ruskin's  enthusiasm  en- 
abled him  to  see  many  things  in  Turner's  pictures  that  never 
existed,  and  in  recent  days  the  impressionists  have  found  out 
that  he  was  one  of  their  artistic  forefathers.  All  honor  to  Mr. 
Ruskin !  Let  painters  who  never  read  his  books  sneer  at  his 
opinions  if  they  will,  but  at  least  he  made  the  world  look  at  and 
study  Turner's  pictures.  As  for  the  claim  of  the  impressionists,  it 
is  based  wholly  on  Turner's  vagueness  and  his  light  scheme  of 
color.  That  he  had  a  passion  for  the  splendor  of  light  there  can 
be  no  doubt ;  but,  unlike  Monet,  he  never  tried  to  lift  the  pitch  of 
light  and  shadow  by  transposing  the  scale.  What  he  attempted 
was  to  attain  with  oils  the  luminous  and  brilliant  effects  of  water- 
colors.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  he  was  at  first  a  painter  in 
water-colors.  He  took  up  oils  later  on,  and  then  he  used  them  as 
a  water-colorist,  striving  for  a  water-color  effect.  If  such  canvases 
as  the  "  Ehrenbreitstein,"  the  Carthage  pictures,  or  the  "  Marriage 
of  the  Adriatic"  be  looked  upon  as  "  large  water-colors,"  as  Con- 
stable called  them,  their  pitch  of  color  and  light  would  seem  ac- 
counted for.  Intense,  blazing  sunlight  and  pale-colored  shadows, 
given  in  tonal  relation,  were  things  Turner  never  attempted.  He 
sometimes  used  blue  for  a  shadow,  and  so  he  did  scarlet ;  but  he 
would  have  used  pea-green  or  orange  just  as  quickly  if  it  would 
repeat  a  note  or  help  out  a  color-scheme. 

Turner's  technique  is  perhaps  more  complex  and  less  susceptible 
of  explanation  than  his  point  of  view.  That  his  pictures  show  impos- 
sible shadows,  false  lights,  and  colors  not  true  in  value  is  no  proof 
that  he  did  not  know  and  could  not  paint  the  truthful  appearance. 
He  deliberately  falsified  for  effect  of  composition  or  of  color.  There 
is  no  doubting  his  intimate  knowledge  of  nature.  He  could  draw 
accurately  enough  when  he  chose  to  do  so.  The  late  George  In- 
ness  was  fond  of  saying  that  Turner  "  could  draw  figures  in  a  boat, 


1 84  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

but  not  a  boat  with  figures."  But  Turner  perhaps  wanted  the 
figures  as  spots  of  light  and  color,  and  cared  little  for  the  boat  in 
itself.  It  was  just  so  with  his  whole  conception  of  color.  He 
wanted  not  the  truth  of  color,  but  its  splendor.  And  so  he  placed 
it  about  on  his  canvas  as  it  pleased  his  decorative  plan,  regardless 
of  how  it  was  in  nature. 

It  is  difficult  at  this  day  to  judge  justly  of  Turner's  handling 
or  of  his  methods  and  mediums.  Too  many  of  his  pictures  are 
merely  ruins  crumbling  on  the  wall.  The  attempt  to  secure  the 
transparent  effect  of  water-color  with  oils  was  possibly  responsible 
for  this.  He  blended  mediums,  used  all  colors,  whether  fugitive 
or  not,  scumbled,  kneaded,  and  glazed  to  obtain  certain  effects 
that  in  the  end  proved  only  too  transient.  His  glazings  crumbled, 
his  whites  disintegrated,  his  colors  flew.  The  Turner  rooms  in  the 
National  Gallery  are  to-day  a  sorry  sight.  On  nearly  every  hand 
one  sees  skies  that  have  gone  white,  golden  sunsets  that  have 
changed  to  greenish  yellow,  seas  that  have  grown  brown  from  the 
use  of  fugitive  blues,  and  foregrounds  that  have  sweated  black  with 
bitumen.  The  painter  thought  "  indistinctness  was  his  forte,"  but  he 
surely  could  not  have  anticipated  an  "  indistinctness  "  through  such 
an  appalling  chromatic  rot. 

Turner  stands  quite  alone  in  English  art,  as  Corot  in  French 
art.  They  both  came  out  of  the  classic,  and  Corot  favored  the 
naturalism  of  his  day  as  Turner  the  romanticism  of  Scott  and 
Byron.  But  each  one  was  too  pronounced  an  individual  to  be 
grouped  with  followers  of  a  tradition.  They  had  predecessors  and 
they  had  followers,  but  the  former  were  outgrown  and  contradicted, 
and  the  latter  never  grew  into  anything  like  a  school.  For  years 
the  British  public  looked  askance  at  Turner,  even  after  Mr.  Ruskin 
became  his  prophet.  People  could  not  understand  him  ;  and  when 
they  were  told  he  was  great  because  of  his  truth  to  nature,  they 
became  more  bewildered  than  ever.  To-day  there  is  a  more  ex- 
pansive view  taken  of  art  than  obtained  in  days  of  "  Modern 
Painters."  The  decorative  quality  of  painting  —  its  value  merely 
as  form  and  color  —  is  better  understood  ;  and  Turner,  who  was  so 
elevated  in  composition,  so  splendid  in  color,  comes  in  for  a  re- 
hearing. Then,  too,  the  intensely  realistic  period  has  passed,  and 
people  feel  that  scientific  truth  and  topographical  fact  are  far  re- 
moved from  art.  Painting,  in  its  highest  sense,  is  the  expression 
of  an  idea,  a  feeling,  an  emotion,  or  an  impression,  and  the  facts 


JOSEPH    MALLORD    WILLIAM    TURNER 


185 


of  nature  are  only  words  in  the  painter's  vocabulary.  The  little 
artists  of  the  world  are  ruled  by  a  grammatical  formula,  but  the 
great  ones  make  language  to  suit  themselves.  Turner  was  surely 
one  of  the  great  ones.  Possibly  to-day  he  is  exalted  beyond 
his  deserts,  but  there  can  be  no  question  of  his  title  to  a  high  place. 
He  had  the  poetic  mind  and  the  pictorial  sense,  and  he  certainly 
employed  them  both  with  great  skill. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 


Muc 


"UCH  of  the  charm  of  Turner's 
Frosty  Morning  "  is  in  the  natu- 
ralness and  simplicity  of  its  arrangement. 
There  is  apparently  no  attempt  at  com- 
position, no  study  of  line,  nor  anything 
reminiscent  of  former  methods  or  man- 
ners, but  merely,  as  it  were,  a  bit  of  na- 
ture taken  on  the  spot  by  a  snap-shot 
pocket-camera.  A  boy  is  coming  down 
the  road,  hands  in  pockets ;  a  man  with  a 
gun  is  watching  a  horse  sniffing  the  frost- 
covered  ground,  while  a  girl  by  his  side 
is  chafing  his  ears  from  the  chilling  air; 
a  laborer  near  a  cart  has  paused  for  a 
moment  in  his  work  on  the  roadside, 
while  an  old  woman  not  far  off  is  limping 
along.  There  is  no  incident.  I  heard  a 
spectator  remark  before  the  original  in 
the  National  Gallery :  "  What  is  it,  an 
interment?"  —  struck,  evidently,  by  the 
silence  pervading  the  scene.  But  there 
is  nothing  going  on,  other  than  that  des- 
ultory movement  of  every-day  life  com- 
mon to  any  rural  suburb.  For  the  artist 
to  have  made  anything  like  an  incident 
would  have  been  detrimental  to  the  senti- 
ment and  effect  in  the  picture,  which  is 
that  of  a  frosty  morning.  It  looks  like  a 
morning,  and  a  cold  one,  too.  There  is 
a  delicate  humidity  to  the  atmosphere  — 
a  slight  haziness,  natural  when  everything 
is  luminous  with  hoar-frost  that  floats 
the  landscape  into  the  quiet  of  the  sky. 
And  the  sky,  too,  is  characteristic,  and  is 
a  fitting  accompaniment  of  the  peculiar 


dreaminess  of  such  an  effect.  It  is  gray, 
silvery,  yet  mellow,  warm,  tender,  with 
vague,  soft  forms  melting  and  reappear- 
ing, into  which  the  whitened  twigs  of  the 
skeleton  trees  gently  fade,  and  which 
materializes  into  a  long,  softly  drawn  out 
cloud-bank  delicately  streaked,  and  above 
which  a  faint  line  of  light  is  visible.  How 
subtle,  mysterious,  and  tranquil  it  all  is, 
bathed  in  the  slanting  beams  of  the  rising 
sun! 

The  rigid  hoar-frost  melts  before  his  beam. 

There  is  no  pronounced  coloring  any- 
where, but  a  kind  of  amber-like  radiance 
is  suffused  over  all,  into  which  the  pearly 
glints  of  light  and  cooler  shadows  swim. 

It  is  painted  on  canvas,  three  feet  nine 
inches  high  by  five  feet  nine  inches  wide, 
and  hangs  in  the  Turner  collection  of  the 
National  Gallery,  London. 

"  The  Temeraire,  an  old  ninety-eight 
(named  after  a  French  ship  taken  at 
Lagos  Bay  in  1759),  was,  under  com- 
mand of  Captain  Eliab  Harvey,  the  sec- 
ond ship  in  Lord  Nelson's  division  at  the 
battle  of  Trafalgar,  1805;  the  Fougueux, 
a  French  seventy-four,  became  her  prize 
in  that  engagement,  when  the  Temeraire 
had  forty-seven  hands  killed  and  seventy- 
six  wounded  on  board.  She  was  sold 
out  of  the  service,  at  Sheerness,  on 
August  16,  1838,  and  towed  to  Rother- 
hithe  to  be  broken  up." 

The  picture  is  on  canvas,  two  feet  eleven 


1 86 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


and  a  half  inches  high  by  three  feet  eleven 
and  a  half  inches  wide,  and  is  in  the  Turner 
collection  of  the  National  Gallery,  Lon- 
don. 

No  one  can  gaze  and  muse  on  this 
beautiful  creation  by  Turner  without  a 
feeling  of  sympathy  and  regret  for  the 
noble  old  war-ship,  no  more  the  victor 
ship  of  past  glorious  days,  no  flag  proudly 
waving  from  her  masthead, — 

The  flag  which  braved  the  battle  and  the  breeze 
No  longer  owns  her, — 

but  gaunt,  like  a  skeleton,  and  fallen  into 
decay,  yet  still  majestic  in  her  decrepi- 
tude, her  fearful  voyages  forever  closed 
and  done ;  and  now,  in  the  glory  of  the 
setting  day, —  her  day,  for  heaven  will 
glorify  her  latter  end,  since  unmindful 
England  forgets  to  do  so, —  shrouded  by 
mist  and  smoke  and  fired  by  the  crimson 
light  of  the  declining  sun,  which  in  retir- 
ing seems  to  invite  her  to  oblivious  rest, 
she  is  being  piloted,  by  her  dark  and 
ominous  guide,  to  the  haven  of  her 
grave;  not  neglected  entirely,  but  fol- 
lowed by  a  few  friends,  who  have  not 
forgotten,  and  by  the  moon,  that,  like 
heaven's  eye,  looks  down,  mindful,  too, 
of  her  past  heroism.  The  floating  buoy 
indicates  the  goal  to  which  she  is  headed, 
where  she  will  meet  her  doom. 

Such  seems  to  be  the  sentiment  with 
which  the  artist  invests  the  final  ending  of 
the  "  Fighting  T£m6raire,"  and  in  which 
he  is  again  in  his  element  in  showing 
forth  the  glory  of  heaven  in  paint.  He 
fills  the  overflowing  sky  with  vermilion 
blushes  and  sapphire-tinted  harmonies, 
flecked  with  fire  and  azure  tints,  and  in- 
terpenetrated with  gold  and  amber  hues, 
"from  the  sunset's  radiant  springs"; 
faint,  mellow  hues  of  apple-green,  pearly 
grays,  and  purple  mists,  softening  into 
dun-colored  shades  that  fade  from  smoky 
passages  to  cool  lakes,  like  vaporous 
amethysts,  as  in  the  crystalline  reflec- 
tions of  the  boats,  the  liquid  tones  of 


slaty  blue,  quivering  and  glimmering  with 
mother-of-pearl  and  sea-green,  all  so  soft 
and  flowing  and  neutral,  mingling,  free 
and  loose,  impalpable;  and  the  whole 
palpitating  with  warmth  and  light. 

The  subject  of  the  "  Ulysses  and  Poly- 
phemus "  is  familiar  to  every  classic 
scholar. 

Now  off  at  sea  and  from  the  shallows  clear 
As  far  as  human  voice  could  reach  the  ear, 
With  taunts  the  distant  giant  I  accost: 
Hear  me,  O  Cyclop !   hear,  ungracious  host ; 
'T  was  on  no  coward,  no  ignoble  slave, 
Thou  meditat'st  thy  meal  in  yonder  cave. 

Cyclop  !  if  any,  pitying  thy  disgrace, 
Ask  who  disfigur'd  thus  that  eyeless  face, 
Say  't  was  Ulysses  ;   't  was  his  deed,  declare, 
Laertes'  son,  of  Ithaca  the  fair; 
Ulysses,  far  in  fighting  fields  renown'd, 
Before  whose  arm  Troy  tumbled  to  the  ground. 

Thus  I :   while  raging  he  repeats  his  cries 
With  hands  uplifted  to  the  starry  skies. 

Pope's  Odyssey,  Book  IX. 

Turner  here  touches  the  final  note  in 
the  loom  of  his  fancy's  coloring.  Under 
a  cope  of  sky  flecked  and  agitated  with 
cloud  and  flying  vapor,  whose  fluent  ex- 
panse is  kindled  with  crimson  by  the  ris- 
ing sun,  which  flings  its  golden  and  amber 
beams  shooting  transparence  through  the 
whole,  and  charming  the  air  with  a  mel- 
low radiance,  the  gorgeous  galley  of 
Ulysses,  issuing  like  an  apparition  from 
the  deep  embosomed  splendor,  glides 
arrogantly  away  from  the  Cyclop's  abode, 
mingling  its  luminous  sails  with  the  lav- 
ish pomp  and  ripe  magnificence  above, 
and  its  nymph-encircled  keel  with  the 
crystal  flood  beneath. 

In  the  original  —  as  also  in  the  en- 
graving —  Ulysses  may  be  made  out 
high  on  the  poop  of  the  boat,  near  the 
mizzenmast,  brandishing  a  torch  with  a 
gesture  of  bravado.  But  it  is  not  so 
much  this  insignificant  detail  that  counts 
as  the  fact  that  it  is  the  vessel  itself  which 
personifies  the  hero  in  its  defiant  attitude, 
with  its  mizzenmast  pointing,  like  a  fin- 


H 


Pi 


JOSEPH    MALLOKD    WILLIAM    TURNER 


I87 


ger  in  derision,  at  the  shadowy  recum- 
bent figure  of  the  giant;  its  foremast 
(laden  with  jeering  sailors),  with  its  flying 
cordage,  as  though  to  lash  the  monster; 
while  the  mainmast,  with  its  angrily  flap- 
ping sail  and  red  flag  aloft,  seems  to 
flaunt  it  triumphantly  in  sailing  away.  It 
is  in  the  boat  that  the  artist  seeks  to  ex- 
press the  taunt  of  Ulysses. 

It  is  on  canvas,  and  measures  four  feet 
three  inches  high  by  six  feet  seven  inches 
wide,  and  is  in  the  Turner  collection  at 
the  National  Gallery. 

What  an  air  of  another  world  exhales 
in  the  delicate  creation  of  "  Dido  Build- 
ing Carthage  "  !  It  is  like  something 
fashioned  in  a  dream,  something  of  a  land 
beyond  all  seas.  There  is  a  mild  efful- 
gence in  the  light ;  the  tranquil  air  is 
imbued  with  the  splendor  of  morning. 
There  is  also  a  limitless  depth  of  space 
and  a  feeling  of  repose  —  almost  of  en- 
chantment—  that  is  contagious  and  dis- 
poses one  to  reverie.  All  is  steeped  in  a 
rich  golden  tone.  No  one  portion  ab- 
sorbs the  attention  more  than  another. 
The  eye  wanders  in  meditation,  resting 
now  upon  the  piles  of  classic  architec- 
ture, gilded  softly  by  the  mellow  bright- 
ness; or  now  upon  the  confused  mass 
of  workers  against  which  the  matronly 
figure  of  Queen  Dido  is  relieved ;  or 
upon  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river, 
where  in  the  foreground,  embowered  in 
foliage,  is  the  finished  monument  to 
the  memory  of  her  murdered  husband 
Sychasus ;  or  off  far  away  into  the  at- 
mosphere, where  the  sun  is  laboring  to 
dispel  the  warm  vapors  that  envelop  it 
with  a  tender,  hazy  radiance;  and  here 
you  may  feel  inclined  to  dwell,  and  may 


fancy  the  pearly  mists  falling  and  rising 
and  circling  about,  with  ethereal  Mend- 
ings and  vanishings.  The  subtle  move- 
ment of  this  part  of  the  sky  —  of  all  the 
sky,  in  fact  —  is  admirably  expressed, 
and  gives  a  sense  of  palpitating  warmth 
and  airiness.  Turner,  of  all  artists,  was 
supreme  in  the  treatment  of  sky.  He 
gave  wing  to  his  fancy  here,  and  let  it 
"  cloudward  soar."  One  must  be  dull 
of  soul  indeed  who  could  pass  by  his 
finest  works  and  fail  to  be  touched  by  the 
clarity  of  his  tints  —  their  almost  pristine 
purity.  It  is  this  peculiar  clearness  that 
lends  itself  naturally  to  the  transparency 
and  depth  of  sky.  And  then  the  poetry 
that  he  gets  into  his  palette !  There  is  a 
noble  sentiment  in  his  coloring,  and  a 
self-restraining  art  even  in  his  loftiest 
flights  —  his  greatest  tumult  and  gor- 
geousness :  "  So  much  of  earth,  so  much 
of  heaven."  He  is  the  only  artist  of  the 
English  school  who  follows  implicitly 
the  poet's  exhortation : 

Break  the  mesh 
Of  the  Fancy's  silken  leash ; 
Quickly  break  her  prison-string, 
And  such  joys  as  these  she  '11  bring. 
Let  the  winged  Fancy  roam ; 
Pleasure  never  is  at  home. 

This  picture  and  a  companion  piece, 
the  "Sun  Rising  in  a  Mist,"  —  also  a 
magnificent  work,  —  were  bequeathed  by 
the  artist  to  the  National  Gallery  of  Lon- 
don, on  condition  that  they  should  be 
hung  between  two  pictures  by  Claude 
Lorrain,  of  about  the  same  size,  which 
are  placed  by  their  side.  The  "  Dido  " 
is  on  canvas,  and  measures  five  feet  half 
an  inch  high  by  seven  feet  five  and  a 
half  inches  wide.  T.  C. 


JOHN    CONSTABLE 


O 
U      I 

Q 
2        z 

o    >- 


H     2 


CHAPTER   XV 

JOHN    CONSTABLE 

(1776-1837) 

CONSTABLE,  in  his  birth,  his  education,  and  his  disposition, 
forms  a  striking  contrast  to  his  great  contemporary  Turner. 
He  was  something  of  a  social  character  with  gentlemanly  in- 
stincts, and  in  his  view  of  art  he  was  Turner's  point-to-point  oppo- 
site. The  man  who  could  exclaim  with  considerable  warmth, 
"  Ideal  art  in  landscape  is  all  nonsense !  "  would  to-day  be  classed 
as  a  realist.  He  evidently  so  considered  himself,  for  in  his  letters 
he  is  always  harping  on  "  truth,"  and  the  futility  of  following  any- 
thing but  the  nature  model.  As  for  Turner,  it  is  not  putting  it 
too  strong  to  say  that  he  cared  not  a  rap  about  truth,  and  that 
he  considered  "  nature  "  as  only  so  much  stone-quarry  from  which 
he  could  gather  building  material.  Constable  always  spoke  of 
the  Turnerian  landscapes  as  "golden  dreams."  He  admired  them 
in  his  way  without  fully  comprehending  the  altitude  of  their  painter. 
How  could  he  comprehend  him  ?  The  men  belonged  in  different 
strata  of  the  art  atmosphere.  Turner  was  an  eagle,  as  Corot  said 
of  Rousseau,  wheeling  above  the  upper  cirrus  in  the  full  blaze  of 
sunlight ;  while  Constable  was  only  a  lark  singing  over  the  woods 
and  misty  fields  of  England  —  singing  a  song  of  much  charm  but 
of  limited  range. 

Constable's  early  years  were  passed  in  the  Suffolk  country, 
which  may  account  for  his  somewhat  matter-of-fact  view  of  land- 
scape. He  knew  the  real  too  intimately  to  nurse  any  delusions 
about  the  ideal.  His  father  was  a  miller,  owning  the  mills  at  Flat- 
ford,  East  Bergholt,  and  Dedham,  a  man  of  some  wealth.  The 
son  was  sent  to  boarding-school  at  seven,  and  afterward  to  Ded- 
ham School,  where  it  is  said  he  learned  Latin  and  French  and  be- 

191 


I92  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

came  a  good  penman.  His  father  destined  him  for  a  bishop,  but 
was  willing  to  compromise  on  a  miller.  At  eighteen  Constable 
tried  the  milling  business  for  one  year,  but  he  spent  most  of  his 
time  sketching  with  a  friend  named  Dunthorne,  and  copying  draw- 
ings by  Girtin.  Sir  George  Beaumont  had  loaned  him  the  Girtin 
drawings,  and  it  was  Beaumont  who  persuaded  him  to  go  up  to 
London  to  study  art.  The  first  visit  was  tentative.  He  met  in 
London  Joseph  Farington,  R.A.,  and  J.  T.  Smith,  who  probably 
gave  him  some  elementary  ideas  about  art.  Smith  taught  him 
something  about  etching,  but  his  instruction  at  this  time  was  probably 
desultory  and  fragmentary.  Constable  soon  came  home  to  help 
his  father  in  the  mill,  but  returned  to  London  again  in  1 799,  and 
was  then  entered  at  the  schools  of  the  Royal  Academy.  He  began 
as  a  portrait-painter,  with  an  occasional  dash  at  the  historical  com- 
position, copied  Ruysdael,  and  traveled  some  in  Derbyshire.  In 
1802  one  of  his  landscapes  was  hung  at  the  Royal  Academy  exhi- 
bition, and  after  that  he  devoted  himself  almost  exclusively  to  land- 
scape. Encouraged  by  Benjamin  West,  he  now  took  up  the  serious 
study  of  nature.  He  writes  to  a  friend :  "  In  the  last  two  years 
I  have  been  running  after  pictures  and  seeking  truth  at  second 
hand.  I  have  not  endeavored  to  represent  nature  with  the  same 
elevation  of  mind  with  which  I  set  out,  but  have  rather  tried  to 
make  my  performance  look  like  the  work  of  other  men.  ...  I  shall 
return  to  Bergholt,  where  I  shall  endeavor  to  get  a  pure  and  unaf- 
fected manner  of  representing  the  scenes  that  may  employ  me.  .  .  . 
There  is  room  enough  for  a  natural  painter.  The  great  vice  of 
the  present  day  is  bravura,  an  attempt  to  do  something  beyond 
the  truth.  Fashion  always  had  and  always  will  have  its  day,  but 
truth  in  all  things  only  will  last,  and  can  only  have  just  claims  on 
posterity."  The  next  year  (1803)  he  consoles  himself  with  think- 
ing that  he  will  "  some  time  or  other  make  good  pictures."  But 
he  was  never  a  popular  painter.  He  had  friends  among  the  artists, 
painters  like  Jackson,  Wilkie,  and  Stothard,  but  the  public  passed 
him  without  comment.  At  thirty-eight  he  had  sold  no  pictures, 
except  to  friends,  and  what  money  he  earned  had  come  from  por- 
traits and  making  copies  after  Reynolds. 

But  Constable  had  perseverance,  even  though  he  felt  himself 
unappreciated.  He  clung  to  landscape-painting,  and  declined  a 
position  of  drawing  master  which  Dr.  Fisher  had  offered  him. 
He  continued  sending  modest-looking  pictures  to  the  exhibitions 


I    s 


3 


JOHN     CONSTABLE  I93 

of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  giving  diem  the  still  more  modest 
titles  of  "  Landscape"  or  "  Study  of  Nature."  It  was  not  in  him 
to  put  the  poetry  of  his  picture  in  the  title.  He  rather  despised 
that  method  of  catching  the  attention  and  thought  it  meretricious  — 
unworthy  of  an  artist. 

In  181 1  it  is  said  his  health  was  impaired  by  his  attachment  to  a 
young  woman  named  Maria  Bicknell,  with  whom  he  had  been  in 
love  from  his  boyhood  days.  It  seems  that  her  parents  objected 
to  a  marriage,  and  presumably  that  did  not  please  Constable.  A 
mill-owner's  son  and  an  unsuccessful  painter  was  no  great  "  catch." 
In  1 81 3  Constable  writes  the  lady  of  his  love  about  his  success 
with  his  Academy  picture  called  "  Landscape  —  Boys  Fishing."  He 
knows  Turner  and  likes  his  pictures,  and  is  momentarily  hopeful 
for  his  own  future.  The  next  year  he  sold  two  pictures  besides 
coming  into  some  property  by  the  death  of  his  parents,  and 
the  Bicknell  opposition  was  broken  down.  The  marriage  took 
place  in  18 16,  and  the  couple  went  to  London  to  live.  They 
also  had  a  supplementary  house  at  Hampstead,  where,  after  1826, 
they  lived  continuously.  Constable  was  elected  an  A.R.A.  in 
1 8 19,  which  he  owed  "  solely  to  his  own  unsupported,  unpatronized 
merits,"  as  his  friend  Dr.  Fisher  remarked.  That  year  he  exhibited 
and  sold  the  celebrated  "White  Horse"  picture  for  one  hundred 
pounds,  and  the  next  year  "  Stratford  Mill"  for  a  like  sum.  But 
the  first  real  breath  of  fame  that  came  to  him  was  from  France. 
He  had  sold  three  landscapes  to  a  Frenchman,  and  two  of  them 
were  sent  by  their  owner  to  the  Salon  of  1824.  One  of  the  pic- 
tures was  the  "  Hay  Wain."  It  made  something  of  a  stir  among 
the  young  romanticists  of  France,  and  Delacroix,  their  leader,  is 
said  to  have  repainted  his  "  Massacre  of  Scio  "  after  seeing  it. 
Constable  received  a  gold  medal,  and  was  also  honored  at  a  supple- 
mentary exhibition  at  Lille.  But  England  had  scant  praise  for  him. 
He  sold  a  picture  occasionally  in  his  own  country,  but  he  was 
usually  at  his  wit's  end  for  money.  In  1828  Mr.  Bicknell  died,  and 
twenty  thousand  pounds  came  to  Mrs.  Constable.  She  did  not 
live  the  year  out,  and  Constable  was  left  with  seven  children. 

At  last  Constable  was  made  a  Royal  Academician.  The  honor 
was  late  in  coming,  and  he  lost  his  patience  when  Lawrence  told 
him  he  was  fortunate.  He  had  become  embittered  by  neglect,  and 
became  more  so  as  he  aged ;  yet  he  plodded  on  in  the  path  he 
had    laid    out    for  himself.     The    "  Salisbury  Cathedral  from   the 


194  Old    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

Meadows,"  the  "Waterloo  Bridge,"  and  the  "Valley  Farm" 
aroused  no  enthusiasm.  Twenty  mezzotints  after  Constable's 
drawings  and  fifteen  plates  of  "  English  Landscape"  fared  no  bet- 
ter. The  public  did  not  care  for  them,  and  Constable  felt  (as  he 
wrote)  that  his  "  life  and  occupation  were  useless."  He  struggled 
on  under  great  mental  depression,  painting  "  Arundel  Castle  "  and 
delivering  some  lectures  at  the  Royal  Academy.  Twice  he  had 
been  seriously  ill,  and  finally,  on  the  morning  of  April  i,  1837,  he 
was  found  dead  in  his  bed.  He  was  buried  in  Hampstead  church- 
yard, and  from  the  day  of  his  burial  his  countrymen  began  to  think 
better  of  him. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Constable  attained  no  exalted  position 
during  his  life.  There  was  nothing  popular  or  catching  about  his 
art.  It  showed  no  grand  subjects  of  the  Claude-Salvator-Turner 
kind ;  it  was  not  in  the  least  dramatic ;  it  had  not  a  rag  of  romantic 
passion  about  it.  His  themes  were  field  and  wood  and  shore — low- 
lying  scenes  with  farm-houses,  wagons,  animals,  canals,  mills — al- 
most everything  that  was  pastoral,  almost  nothing  that  was  heroic 
or  historical.  Occasionally  he  painted  a  picture  reminiscent  of 
Turner  in  its  mountains  and  sky,  but  usually  he  did  not  care  for 
mountain  landscapes  and  knew  little  about  nature's  grandeur. 
His  attitude  of  mind  taught  him  to  love  the  more  familiar  trees, 
meadows,  atmospheres,  and  clouds  —  to  love  them  for  their  simpli- 
city, their  unpretentious  charm,  their  characteristic  beauty.  He 
used  to  say  that  painting  was  with  him  "  but  another  name  for 
feeling  "  ;  and  one  may  feel  just  as  keenly  about  a  Bergholt  mill  as 
about  a  Roman  ruin,  may  grow  as  emotional  over  Weymouth  Bay 
as  over  Venetian  lagoons.  The  poetic  significance  of  objects  does 
not  lie  in  expanse  or  bulk,  nor  does  the  essence  of  all  sentiment 
hang  upon  romantic  antiquity.  The  exciting  cause  is,  after  all, 
of  small  consequence;  it  is  the  "feeling"  aroused  that  furnishes 
forth  the  poetry.  Wordsworth  and  Constable  had  the  same  view. 
Byron  could  sneer  at  their  nature  in  favor  of  Sunium's  height 
or  the  Isles  of  Greece,  but  when  the  glamour  of  romanticism  had 
passed,  and  people  came  back  to  every-day  scenes  and  common  joys, 
they  found  the  most  enduring  beauty  was  near  their  own  door-steps. 
To  be  sure,  Wordsworth  wrote  much  prosy  poetry,  and  Constable 
painted  some  landscapes  of  a  corresponding  quality.  That  could 
not  be  avoided.  In  art,  when  the  fact  is  too  strongly  insisted  upon, 
the  "  feeling"  is  sure  to  suffer.      Both  men  had  great  reverence  for 


JOHN     CONSTABLE  I95 

nature  per  se,  and  pursued  truth  into  the  last  ditch.  They  were 
protestants  against  the  exaggerations  of  romanticism,  and  truth  was 
their  very  watchword.  But  who  shall  say  they  had  not  also  beauty  ? 
Does  all  the  glory  of  landscape  blaze  from  the  seven  hills  of  Rome  ? 
And  is  there  no  loveliness  in  a  Suffolk  valley  or  a  Hampstead 
Heath  ? 

Yet  it  may  be  doubted  if  Constable  is  to-day  appreciated  for 
his  poetic  sentiment.  Painters  have  taken  up  his  art  in  recent 
years,  and  speak  his  name  with  some  reverence  because  realism  is 
always  in  the  air  and  in  Constable  they  are  pleased  to  see  the  first 
English  "  realist "  in  landscape.  It  is  his  truth  rather  than  his  "  feel- 
ing" that  they  enjoy,  his  breadth  of  handling  rather  than  his  mood 
that  they  admire.  Yet  Constable's  truth  was  not  absolute.  For  his 
day  it  was  excellent,  but  it  was  not  so  wholly  original  as  enthusias- 
tic biographers  are  pleased  to  think.  He  talked  much  against  art 
methods  in  favor  of  nature  unalloyed ;  but  the  fact  is,  he  arrived  at 
nature,  like  every  other  painter,  by  studying  art  formulas.  During 
his  first  summer  at  Ipswich  he  "  saw  Gainsborough  in  every  hedge 
and  hollow  tree."  When  a  student  in  London  he  "  fagged  at 
copying  Ruysdael."  Precisely.  Take  the  nature  views  of  Gains- 
borough and  Ruysdael  in  equal  parts,  add  Constable's  personality 
and  some  Suffolk  landscape  facts,  and  there  you  have  the  Constable 
receipt  for  nature  truth.  He  could  not  escape  the  art  traditions  of 
the  past.  The  tale  goes  that  Sir  George  Beaumont  asked  him 
where  he  placed  his  brown  tree,  and  Constable's  answer  was  that 
he  did  not  use  brown  trees.  The  story  is  pretty,  but  again  the 
fact  is,  Constable  used  them  when  it  pleased  him.  The  famous 
"Valley  Farm"  is  a  "  brown-fiddle  "  picture  all  through,  and  the 
"  Corn-field"  inclines  the  same  way.  He  composed,  too,  after  the 
academic  rule,  with  a  dark  foreground,  a  light  middle  distance,  and 
a  bright  sky,  balancing  objects  symmetrically,  and  throwing  in 
spots  of  light  where  they  would  glitter  to  the  best  advantage.  It 
is  not  just,  however,  to  say  that  this  was  always  his  manner.  He 
was  oftener  green  than  brown  ;  often  he  sketched  a  scene  with  little 
thought  of  composition  ;  and  there  are  Constables  quite  free  from 
"spotty"  lights.  Such  fine  pictures  as  the  "  Yarmouth  Jetty"  and 
"  Opening  the  Lock"  in  Sir  Charles  Tennent's  collection,  and  the 
sketches  at  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  reveal  Constable  much 
better  than  the  large,  labored  canvases  in  the  National  Gallery. 
He  had  his  mannerisms,  but  usually  he  was  broad  and  simple  in 


I96  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

foliage,  in  hills,  in  seas.  Every  phase  of  Suffolk  landscape  interested 
him.  "  I  love  every  stile  and  stump  and  lane  in  the  village,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  and  as  long  as  I  am  able  to  hold  a  brush  I  shall  never 
cease  to  paint  them."  He  loved  the  larger  features  of  nature  with 
just  as  much  fervor,  and  was  perhaps  fonder  of  nature's  restless- 
ness—  its  moving  air,  clouds,  and  water — than  its  repose.  West 
had  told  him  that  "light  and  shadow  never  stood  still."  The 
observation  sounds  trite  to-day,  but  it  made  a  lasting  impression 
upon  the  youthful  Constable.  All  through  his  pictures  one  sees 
bowling  clouds,  voyaging  rain-sheets,  flying  shadows,  dancing 
waters.  And  under  English  skies  he  gave,  as  best  he  could,  Eng- 
lish color.  Sometimes  his  palette  was  quite  brilliant,  but  usually  it 
was  somber  with  grays,  blues,  greens,  and  browns.  Occasionally  one 
finds  some  blackness  in  his  trees  owing  to  the  use  of  bitumen,  and 
some  heat  in  his  clouds  due  to  a  warm  underbasing  that  has 
worked  to  the  surface.  One  would  hardly  call  him  a  colorist. 
Technically  he  was  not  wanting  in  knowledge  or  vigor,  but  there 
is  little  that  is  remarkable  about  his  handling.  His  title  to  fame 
does  not  rest  upon  his  craftsmanship. 

Constable's  name  is  placed  high  to-day,  and  his  influence  has 
been  wide-spread  and  much  talked  about.  It  has  even  passed  into 
history  that  his  picture  of  the  "Hay  Wain,"  exhibited  at  the  Paris 
Salon  in  1824,  was  responsible  for  the  Fontainebleau-Barbizon 
painters  of  1830.  That  claim  is  so  prodigious,  and  it  is  made  so 
persistently,  that  a  few  facts  and  dates  should  be  put  down  and 
coldly  compared.  In  1824  Dupre  was  twelve  years  old,  Rousseau 
was  the  same  age,  Diaz  was  fifteen  and  working  at  Sevres,  Dau- 
bigny  was  seven,  Corot  was  a  young  man  studying  in  Rome. 
What  could  be  the  influence  of  the  "Hay  Wain"  upon  these  young- 
sters who  had  not  yet  taken  up  art,  who  probably  never  saw  the 
picture  in  question?  There  was  no  journeying  to  Fontainebleau 
until  about  1833,  and  no  landscape-painting  in  France  that  at  all 
resembled  Constable's  work  until  much  later.  Is  there  any  evi- 
dence whatever  for  the  Constable  claim,  or  is  it  only  another  one  of 
the  half-cocked  conclusions  of  art-history  ?  The  picture  influenced 
Delacroix  undoubtedly,  but  more  by  its  breadth  of  handling  than 
its  view  of  nature.  After  seeing  it  he  repainted  his  "Massacre 
of  Scio  "  in  a  freer  manner,  that  is  all.  Jules  Breton  has  already 
pointed  out  that  the  influence  upon  Dupre  and  Rousseau  was  the 
Dutch  pictures  in  the  Louvre  rather  than  the  Constable  picture. 


JOHN     CONSTABLE  I 97 

He  is  undoubtedly  right.  Landscape  descended  from  Italy  in  two 
lines.  Frenchmen  like  Watelet  and  Bertin  derived  directly  from 
Claude;  the  Dutchmen  Ruysdael  and  Everdingen  derived  from 
Salvator  Rosa.  The  Dutch  inheritance  was  modified  and  localized 
with  Hobbema.  When  the  Claude  tradition  failed  to  satisfy  Con- 
stable, he  turned  to  Ruysdael  for  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of 
nature;  when  the  same  tradition  failed  to  please  Rousseau  and 
Dupre,  they  turned  to  Hobbema  for  similar  knowledge.  Even- 
tually the  Frenchmen,  living  far  into  the  century,  worked  out  the 
paysage  intime,  which  neither  Hobbema  nor  Constable  ever  fully 
accomplished.  At  the  start  they  may  have  felt  some  English 
influence  passed  down  from  Delacroix  and  Bonington,  but  its  extent 
has  been  overestimated. 

Constable's  pictures  have  carried  farther  among  the  painters 
of  landscape  in  England  and  America  than  in  France.  Among  all 
artists  he  is  ranked  as  one  of  the  chiefs  of  the  realistic  landscape, 
and  is  admired  for  both  his  sincerity  and  his  truth.  He  is  not  un- 
deserving of  painters'  praise,  yet  there  is  another  side  of  him  to  be 
considered.  He  was  a  lover  of  nature  for  its  own  sake — a  painter 
devoted  to  the  beauty  of  blue  skies,  traveling  clouds,  atmospheres, 
lights,  and  the  goodly  heritage  of  English  sea  and  soil  beneath 
them.  His  choice  of  subject  and  mood  of  mind  are  also  worthy  of 
admiration. 

NOTES   BY  THE  ENGRAVER 

CONSTABLE   resided  some  time  at  extent,  and  its  wild  and  irregular  beauty, 

Hampstead,  one  of  London's  charm-  its   undulating    alternations  of  hill   and 

ing  suburbs,  where  after  his  death  he  was  hollow,  make  it  a  refreshing  contrast  to 

buried.     Keats  lived  and  wrote  much  of  the  trim  elegance  of  the   parks.      It  is 

his  finest  work  there,  Leigh  Hunt  for  a  owned   by   the    Metropolitan    Board  of 

long  time  had  a  house  there,  and  Hogarth  Works,  for  the  unrestricted   use   of  the 

the  painter  planted  a  holly  at  the  north  public. 

margin  of  the  heath,  which  is  still  pre-  Constable   loved   the   heath,  and   left 

served.    The  heath,  which  is  high  ground,  a  number  of  paintings   commemorative 

being  four  hundred  and  thirty  feet  above  of  the  place,  among  which  is  the  little 

the  level  of  the  sea,  is  one  of  the  most  one  reproduced  here  in  black  and  white 

open  and  picturesque  places  in  the  imme-  — a  reduction  to  about  half  the  size  of  the 

diate  vicinity  of  the  great  metropolis,  and  original.    It  hangs  in  the  South  Kensing- 

is  a  favorite  and  justly  valued  resort  for  ton  Museum. 

holiday-makers,  being  visited  on  public  It  was  chiefly  clouds  that  fascinated 

festivals  by  vast  numbers  of  Londoners.  the  artist,  and  this  is  indicated  in  all  his 

It  is  two  hundred   and   forty   acres   in  pictures.      In    the    South     Kensington 


198 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


Museum  may  be  seen,  by  his  hand,  num- 
bers of  sketches  and  studies  of  clouds 
and  skies  merely.  He  possesses  great 
claim  to  distinction  as  a  painter  of  Eng- 
lish skies.  He  keenly  felt  the  splendor 
—  the  dazzling  effulgence  —  of  the  light 
in  his  luminous  masses  of  cumuli  and 
other  vaporous  forms,  and  endeavored  to 
suggest  their  movement  —  their  fleeting, 
dissolving,  and  ethereal  character. 

In  this  beautiful  little  painting  of 
"  Hampstead  Heath  "  there  is  a  pervad- 
ing sentiment  of  prayer.  The  artist's 
spirit  must  have  flown  out  to  those  deli- 
cate and  floating  forms  of  brightness. 
The  glory  of  the  declining  day  is  full  of 
pensiveness  and  elevated  feeling.  This 
heath,  this  calm  and  quiet  expanse,  with 
its  canopy  of  light  and  adoration  above, 
and  its  far-reaching  green  plains  seen 
through  the  vaporous  air  and  glowing 
softly  in  the  reflected  radiance  of  the 
sky,  with  its  pervading  breath  of  peace, 
its  inviolable  quietness,  seems  like  an  in- 
vitation to  communion  with  nature  and 
nature's  God. 

The  picture  was  not  painted  on  the 
spot,  evidently,  but  in  the  studio  from 
some  sketch;  and  this  was  Constable's 
usual  way  of  working.  It  is  smoothly 
and  delicately  finished.  There  is  not 
that  spontaneity  of  touch  which  is  char- 
acteristic of  his  studies  and  sketches  from 
nature.  There  is  a  flock  of  sheep  going 
along  a  pathway,  headed  by  their  shep- 
herd in  the  foreground,  and  the  move- 
ment of  the  mass  is  well  suggested. 

Constable's  studies  and  sketches  from 
nature  are  priceless,  because  they  are  in- 
stinct with  that  vis-a-vis  contact  with  the 
animated  thing,  and  therefore  possess  that 
spontaneity  of  technique  which  naturally 
flows  from  the  unconscious  inspiration  of 
such  occasions.  The  South  Kensington 
Museum  possesses  a  number  of  these 
gems,  and  also  the  Diploma  Gallery  of  the 
Royal  Academy,  some  score  or  so  hang- 
ing upon  the  staircase.    From  these  latter 


the  present  one  is  selected,  showing  a 
scene  on  the  river  Thames  above  Water- 
loo Bridge.  This  is  certainly  a  joli 
moneau,  and  discloses  the  true  spirit  of 
Constable,  anxious  only  to  interpret  the 
movement,  sparkle,  and  animation  of 
the  life  he  saw  in  the  flying  clouds,  the 
dancing  water  and  sunshine,  and  the 
flashes  and  specks  of  humanity  and 
boats.  Things  are  delightfully  suggested; 
the  inspiration  is  given;  neither  more  nor 
less  is  evoked,  and  this  is  sufficient. 
Everything  is  free  and  fluttering,  and  all 
so  exhilarating,  simple,  and  true.  There 
is  not  that  complete  statement  of  facts  as 
in  his  finished  works  (which  are  in  com- 
parison always  dull  and  heavy),  and  yet 
there  is  more  truth,  simply  because  he 
has  not  labored  to  state  the  thing  exactly, 
but  has  let  nature  do  part  of  the  saying. 
Look  at  the  clouds,  for  instance,  and  see 
how  much  fresher,  freer,  more  impalpable 
they  are  than  in  his  more  finished  works. 
They  lie  more  in  the  atmosphere,  and  are 
more  masterly  in  every  way. 

In  the  engraving  I  have  endeavored 
to  follow  the  dashing  character  of  the 
handling,  and  to  preserve  its  accidental 
qualities  and,  above  all,  the  flatness  of 
the  tones  and  their  values. 

There  is  a  charming  freshness  and  mel- 
lowness to  the  coloring  of  the  original. 
The  grays  are  pearly  and  warm ;  his  pur- 
ples and  blues  exquisite  in  their  neutrality; 
his  greens  vivacious  yet  cool  and  inter- 
mingled with  lively  touches  of  reds  and 
blues.  The  whole  is  subdued  and  har- 
monious, "  silvery,  windy,  and  delicious  ; 
all  health,  and  the  absence  of  everything 
stagnant,"  to  quote  his  own  words  in  his 
enjoyment  of  nature. 

Constable  is  no  less  true  to  earth  than 
Turner  is  to  heaven.  Between  these 
two  great  names  English  landscape  may 
be  said  to  resemble  Wordsworth's  "  Sky- 
lark "  :  "  True  to  the  kindred  points  of 
heaven  and  home."  After  having  with 
Turner  soared  cloudward  upon   fancy's 


THE    CORN-FIELD,    BY   JOHN    CONSTABLE. 

NAl  ION  U     GALLERY,    Li  >NDON. 


JOHN     CONSTABLE 


I99 


wing,  and  bathed  our  souls  in  his 
glowing  tints,  it  seems  good  to  descend 
to  terra  firma  once  more  and  bask  with 
Constable  on  his  quiet  heaths  and  pas- 
tures; to  drink  at  his  cool  streams  and 
pools,  and  ruminate  in  the  shade  of  his 
breezy  trees,  or  rest  our  eyes  in  his  tran- 
quil landscapes,  loaded  with  huge  and 
thought-inspiring  clouds;  to  "lean  and 
loaf"  at  our  ease,  or  ramble  in  spirit 
through  his  rich  and  homely  meadows 
and  fields,  such  as  the  peaceful  and  rural 
scene  of  the  "  Corn-field." 

Constable  makes  you  feel  that  matter 
has  much  weight  and  value.  His  trees 
are  sturdy  and  of  robust  growth  and  full 
in  texture ;  and  his  clouds  are  heavy  with 
rain  and  thunder.  His  pictures  are  well 
grounded  in  values.  His  sky  is  the  earth 
more  rarefied  —  never  volatile,  as  is  often 
the  case  with  Turner,  but  well  related 
with  the  ground  and  foliage.  His  eye 
travels  constantly  from  the  soil  to  the 
zenith,  never  looking  upon  any  object 
without  observing  its  corresponding  value 
in  the  atmosphere.  Thus  in  the  "  Corn- 
field "  the  sheen  of  the  sunlight  upon  the 
golden  grain  in  the  distance  is  carefully 
calculated  with  the  same  light  which 
shines  upon  the  grass  and  road  of  the 
foreground,  and  with  the  bright  clouds 
immediately  above  the  corn-field,  as  well 
as  with  those  shining  at  the  top  of  the 
picture.  In  like  manner  is  the  sunlight 
upon  the  foliage  balanced  with  the  shades 
upon  the  clouds  and  the  patch  of  blue 
sky  into  which  the  topmost  contour  of 
the  tall  trees  softens.  Thus  he  bases  his 
pictures  in  chiaroscuro,  binding  them 
strongly  together  in  a  complete  and 
rounded  whole ;  so  that  the  "  Corn-field," 
for  example,  might  be  turned  upside 
down  and  would  still  be  agreeable  as  a 
disposition  of  light  and  dark  patches.  A 
picture  by  him  is  an  entire  painting,  full 
and  strong,  with  no  vacancies ;  in  color- 
ing warm  and  rich ;  grayish  above,  with 
neutral  browns  and  greens  below ;  dark- 


looking  at  a  distance  (sometimes  inclining 
to  heaviness),  yet  penetrated  with  light 
when  approached ;  solidly  built,  and  har- 
monizing well  with  the  gold  of  its  frame, 
and  pervaded  often  by  a  sentiment  of 
home  and  peace. 

The  "Corn-field"  was  painted  in  1826, 
and  presented  to  the  National  Gallery, 
London,  in  1837,  by  an  association  of 
gentlemen  who  purchased  it  of  the 
painter's  executors.  It  is  on  canvas, 
measuring  four  feet  nine  and  a  half  inches 
high  by  four  feet  one  inch  wide. 

I  engraved  the  picture  of  the  "  Hay 
Wain  "  (as  well  as  the  "  Corn-field  ")  in  as 
bold  a  manner  as  I  could  command,  be- 
cause I  wanted  each  line  to  print  up  as 
fat  and  full  as  possible,  as  I  felt  by  this 
means  I  might  arrive  at  something  analo- 
gous to  the  rich  and  unctuous  coloring 
characteristic  of  the  original.  Much  that 
was  in  the  original  had,  of  course,  to  be 
sacrificed  —  all  its  surface,  in  fact,  and  a 
new  surface  substituted  (which,  however, 
happens  in  all  engraving).  Whole  legions 
of  details  are  ruthlessly  swept  away,  and 
characteristic  lines  and  stipples  sought 
out  or  invented  to  supply  their  places. 
Thus,  for  instance,  the  foreground  of  the 
"  Hay  Wain  "  is  composed  of  pebbles  and 
stones ;  but  in  the  small  reduction  of  the 
engraving  these  came  down  so  minute 
that  were  they  engraved  it  would  have 
necessitated  such  microscopic  work  that 
printing  would  have  been  impossible,  and 
the  larger  fact  of  the  vigor  of  effect  and 
color  could  not  have  been  secured.  So 
it  was  throughout  the  picture.  And  thus 
it  is  with  all  art :  sacrifice  is  the  rule.  Art 
lives  by  sacrifice.  Constable  perceived 
this,  and  did  not  therefore  paint  the  skin 
but  the  spirit  of  nature.  It  is  Blake  who 
says, "  The  devil,  not  God,  made  nature"; 
and  the  devil  is  forever  seeking  to  be- 
fuddle the  artist,  whispering  his  maxim, 
"  Skin  for  skin  ";  but  it  is  only  by  diving 
beneath  the  mere  letter  that  he  can  arrive 
at  the  spirit,  which  is  God.     A  work  of 


200 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


art  may  be  likened  unto  the  kingdom  of 
God,  to  attain  to  which  the  artist  must 
sacrifice  the  insignificant  and  worrying 
details  of  the  rind  of  nature  —  must  pene- 
trate beneath  the  glittering  surface  to 
come  at  the  breadth,  repose,  and  fullness 
in  which  alone  the  true  effect,  the  picture, 
can  have  life. 

The  most  difficult  thing  to  secure  in  an 
engraving  is  that  breadth,  fullness,  and 
softness  that  contributes  to  the  dignity  so 
much,  and  to  the  atmosphere  and  repose, 
of  all  great  works  of  art ;  at  the  same 
time  to  retain  the  firmness  and  roundness 
of  the  drawing.  To  achieve  this  it  is 
necessary,  in  conjunction  with  the  mag- 
nifying-lens,  to  work  the  engraving  at 
the  range  of  two  or  three  feet,  for  the 
softness  of  forms  and  the  flatness  of  tints, 
so  vital  to  breadth,  can  be  seen  only  at  a 
distance;  what  might  appear  beneath 
the  lens  as  a  smooth,  soft  form,  or  tint, 
will  often,  if  placed  at  a  slight  distance, 
prove  very  spotty  and  defective.  Look 
at  the  cloud-forms  in  the  "  Hay  Wain  " 
beneath  a  magnifying-lens,  and  see  how 
very  different  they  appear  at  a  distance  of 
two  feet.  With  the  lens  nothing  is  visible 
but  lines.  The  lens  is  used  only  for 
cutting  with,  but  to  see  what  is  really 
being  done  the  long  range  is  resorted  to. 


Thus,  to  get  a  trifling  delicate  accent, 
something,  for  instance,  very  subtile, 
vague,  and  indefinite,  as  the  peculiar 
indentations  to  the  contours  of  the 
cumuli  clouds, —  a  mere  nothing,  yet  of 
vital  moment  to  the  character  of  the 
original, — we  mark  the  form  at  a  distance, 
then,  bringing  the  block  up  beneath  the 
lens,  it  is  engraved,  and  glanced  at  again 
from  a  distance,  and  this  is  repeated  until 
the  desired  effect  is  obtained. 

The  "  Hay  Wain  "  was  one  of  the  first 
pictures  by  Constable  that  contributed 
directly  to  his  fame.  He  exhibited  it  at 
the  Royal  Academy  in  182 1,  and  three 
years  later  in  Paris,  where  it  went  under 
the  title  of  "  A  Landscape  —  Noon."  It 
created  quite  a  sensation  among  the 
French  landscape-painters,  who,  it  is  said, 
were  struck  with  its  wonderful  freshness 
and  truth  to  nature.  "  The  next  exhibi- 
tion in  Paris,"  wrote  a  friend  to  him  from 
that  city,  "  will  teem  with  your  imita- 
tors." The  picture  on  that  occasion 
gained  for  him  a  gold  medal  from  Louis 
Philippe. 

It  is  painted  on  canvas,  four  feet  two 
and  three  quarter  inches  high  by  six 
feet  one  inch  wide,  and  was  presented 
to  the  National  Gallery  by  Mr.  Henry 
Vaughan.  T.  C. 


SIR   DAVID   WILKIE 


CHAPTER   XVI 


SIR    DAVID    WILKIE 


(1785-1841) 

IT  was  a  favorite  remark  of  Wilkie's  that  people  of  taste  in  art 
"begin  by  admiring  Dutch  pictures,  but  end  with  Italian." 
The  generalization  was  perhaps  made  up  from  the  painter's 
personal  experience.  At  forty  he  grew  tired  of  the  genre  subject, 
with  which  he  had  scored  many  successes,  and  started  to  paint  up 
to  Titian  and  Velasquez.  The  effort,  however  commendable,  was 
hardly  successful.  The  armor  of  Mars  did  not  fit  the  man  from 
Fifeshire  ;  and,  what  was  worse,  his  cold-blooded,  practical-minded 
public  as  much  as  told  him  so.  It  would  not  accept  his  larger 
view,  but  persisted  in  liking  the  "  Blind  Fiddler"  and  other  earlier 
anecdotal  canvases.  Doubtless  the  painter  would  have  had  them 
forgotten  ;  but  they  clung  to  him,  and  to-day  he  is  best  known  as  a 
portrayer  of  Scotch  and  English  small  life. 

Wilkie  was  born  in  Cults,  Scotland,  November  18,  1785.  He 
was  the  son  of  a  minister,  and,  of  course,  an  infant  prodigy, 
drawing,  as  he  said  of  himself,  "before  he  could  read,  and  painting 
before  he  could  spell."  At  seven  years  of  age  he  was  carrying  an 
improvised  sketch-book  and  making  pictures  of  beggars,  peddlers, 
and  soldiers.  His  first  school  was  at  Pitlessie.  He  afterward 
went  to  Kettle,  where,  for  some  time,  he  was  under  John  Strachan, 
later  on  Bishop  of  Toronto.  He  passed  through  the  schools  with 
a  sketch-book  in  hand,  and  is  said  to  have  had  "an  eye  and  an  ear 
for  all  the  idle  mischief"  that  was  brewing.  At  fourteen  he  was 
determined  to  be  a  painter,  and  the  Earl  of  Leven's  influence  got 
him  the  chance  to  study  at  the  Trustees'  Academy  of  Design  in 
Edinburgh  under  John  Graham.  He  was  not  phenomenally  suc- 
cessful at  first,  but  he  had  perseverance  and  great  industry,  and 

203 


204  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

soon  attracted  attention  by  a  scene  painted  from  "  Macbeth,"  and  a 
"  Callisto  in  the  Bath  of  Diana,"  which  gained  him  a  ten-guinea 
prize.  While  at  the  Trustees'  Academy  he  did  some  portrait  and 
miniature  work,  as  well  as  some  illustrative  drawings;  but  his  bent 
toward  the  painting  of  genre  subjects  was  already  apparent.  In 
1804  he  left  Edinburgh  and  the  Academy,  and  began  painting  the 
celebrated  "  Pitlessie  Fair,"  with  its  one  hundred  and  forty  figures. 
The  next  year  he  went  up  to  London,  entered  the  schools  of  the 
Royal  Academy,  and  became  acquainted  with  Flaxman,  West,  Mul- 
ready,  Jackson,  and  others. 

Almost  immediately  after  entering  the  Academy  Wilkie  began 
the  painting  of  what  are  considered  his  early  masterpieces.  In 
1806  he  painted  the  "Village  Politicians,"  which  the  Earl  of  Mans- 
field bought  for  some  thirty  pounds,  and  at  the  same  time  he  had 
orders  from  Sir  George  Beaumont  and  Lord  Mulgrave  for  other 
works.  The  Beaumont  order  was  executed  the  same  year,  and 
proved  to  be  the  "  Blind  Fiddler,"  one  of  the  painter's  best  and 
most  characteristic  works;  and  a  second  order  from  Lord  Mulgrave, 
executed  two  years  later,  was  the  "  Rent  Day,"  another  very 
successful  genre  piece.  Wilkie  was  quite  astonished  at  his  success. 
Commissions  poured  in  upon  him  too  fast  for  execution,  and  at  one 
time  he  thought  he  had  "  at  least  forty  pictures  bespoke."  His 
friends  had  now  become  numerous.  He  was  living  in  a  larsfe  house 
in  Cavendish  Square,  and  occasionally  painting  portraits  of  people 
like  the  Marchioness  of  Lansdowne.  In  1809  he  was  elected  an 
associate  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  two  years  later  became  a  full 
academician.  He  now  thought  it  worth  while  to  give  a  Wilkie 
exhibition  in  Pall  Mall,  at  which  his  Academy  pictures,  from  "Pit- 
lessie Fair"  to  the  "Village  Festival,"  were  shown;  but  financially 
the  exhibition  was  not  a  success.  The  "  Village  Festival "  was 
seized  for  gallery-rent,  and  Wilkie  had  to  pay  thirty-two  pounds  to 
have  it  released.  The  incident  is  said  to  have  resulted  in  his  paint- 
ing the  well-known  "  Distraining  for  Rent,"  which  sold  for  six 
hundred  guineas  to  the  British   Institution. 

"  Blind  Man's  Buff"  was  Wilkie's  Academy  picture  in  1813,  and 
at  the  same  time  he  was  engaged  upon  the  picture  which  Mr.  Cole 
has  engraved — "Duncan  Gray,  or  the  Refusal."  In  the  following 
year  he  went  with  Haydon  to  Paris  for  a  short  visit.  French 
art  seemed  to  make  little  or  no  impression  upon  him,  but  a  tour  in 
the  Netherlands  with  Raimbach  in  18 16  was  more  fruitful  in  influ- 


THE    REFUSAL,    BY    SIR    DAVI1»    WILKIE. 


SOUTH    Ki£N'SlNGTON    ML'Stl.M.    LuNDUN, 


SIR     DAVID     WILKIE  205 

ences.  The  Dutch  pictures  were  more  to  his  taste,  and  for  a  time 
Teniers  and  Ostade  became  his  prophets.  His  subject,  too,  changed 
with  his  style,  but  in  no  such  positive  manner  as  after  the  Italian 
tour.  Italy  and  the  historical  picture  had  not  as  yet  appealed  to 
him,  but  he  was  moving  toward  the  historical  subject  in  such  pic- 
tures as  his  "Waterloo  Gazette,  or  the  Chelsea  Pensioners  Reading 
the  Gazette  of  the  Battle  of  Waterloo."  This  picture  was  exhibited 
in  1822,  and  made  a  great  stir.  In  method  of  handling  it  marks 
a  slight  transition  —  a  change  from  Teniers  to  the  broader  manner 
of  Ostade. 

In  1822  Wilkie  went  to  Scotland,  where  the  coming  of  George  IV 
was  the  chief  topic  of  the  day.  The  painter  soon  began  making 
studies  for  the  "King's  Entrance  to  Holyrood,"  a  picture  which 
was  not  completed  until  some  years  later.  Other  canvases,  like  the 
"Parish  Beadle"  and  the  "Highland  Family,"  were  offered  for 
exhibition  in  the  interim.  The  industry  of  the  artist  was  unfailing, 
but  work,  worries,  and  domestic  troubles  finally  called  a  halt  in  his 
labors.  He  was  never  a  strong  man  physically,  and  a  series  of 
deaths  in  his  family  quite  broke  him  down  mentally.  He  went 
abroad  for  his  health,  passing  through  France  into  Italy,  where  he 
visited  all  the  chief  cities  with  their  art  treasures,  then  went  to 
Germany,  but  finally  drifted  back  to  Rome  in  the  winter  of  1826. 
The  following  summer  he  was  able  to  take  up  the  brush  again,  but 
he  painted  little  until  he  got  to  Madrid.  There  he  saw  Spanish 
art  at  its  best,  and  there  his  style — which  had  been  undergoing 
changes  ever  since  he  saw  Titian  at  Venice — was  now  almost  com- 
pletely reversed.  He  had  wearied  of  the  minuteness  of  the  little 
Dutchmen,  and  had  come  to  look  with  some  contempt  upon  their 
subjects.  He  had  grown  up  to  an  admiration  for  the  largeness  of 
effect  in  Titian  and  the  broad  handling  of  Velasquez.  But  when 
he  attempted  to  paint  English  history  after  the  manner  of  these 
great  masters,  there  was  some  incongruity.  One  can  hardly 
imagine  a  "  Preaching  of  John  Knox"  or  a  "  Queen  Victoria  Presid- 
ing at  her  First  Council "  done  in  the  style  of  the  "  Pesaro  Madonna  " 
or  the  "Surrender  at  Breda."  Wilkie  was  not  equal  to  the  task, 
and  a  public  that  had  always  looked  to  him  for  the  story  in  paint,  the 
domestic  tale  on  canvas,  could  see  little  that  was  interesting  in  his 
new  departure.  When  he  came  home  after  a  three  years'  absence 
and  talked  Spanish  art,  his  words  were  taken  with  a  grain  of  salt; 
and  when,  in  1829,  he  exhibited  the  "Princess  Doria,"  the  "Maid 


206  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

of  Saragossa,"  and  the  "Guerrilla  Council  of  War"  as  specimens 
of  his  new  style,  criticism  did  not  spare  him.  His  admirers  wanted 
more  "Blind  Fiddler"  pictures;  but  Wilkie  felt  he  was  right,  and 
would  not  cast  aside  his  new  garment.  At  the  death  of  Lawrence 
he  was  made  painter  in  ordinary  to  the  king — an  office  which  he 
continued  to  hold  under  William  IV  and  Victoria;  and  he  went  on 
painting  the  historical  in  such  canvases  as  the  "Columbus  in  his 
Convent,"  the  "  Duke  of  Wellington  Writing  a  Despatch,"  and 
the  "  Napoleon  and  the  Pope  in  Conference  at  Fontainebleau." 

In  1840,  after  exhibiting  eight  pictures  in  the  Academy  of  that 
year,  he  again  left  England.  He  now  journeyed  through  Holland 
and  Germany  to  Constantinople  and  the  East.  He  was  in  search 
of  new  material  for  historical  pictures,  and  from  his  letters  he  had 
evidently  found  it;  but  it  was  not  to  employ  him  for  long.  In  1841 
he  started  home,  and  on  the  voyage  he  was  taken  ill,  and  died 
suddenly  in  the  morning  of  June  1.  Owing  to  quarantine  laws,  he 
was  buried  at  sea,  near  Gibraltar.  Turner,  who  was  much  attached 
to  him,  painted  a  picture  of  the  burial  at  night,  which  is  now  in  the 
National  Gallery,  London.  Wilkie's  last  picture  was  a  portrait  of 
Mehemet  Ali,  painted  at  Alexandria. 

Wilkie's  shifts  of  style  may  be  regarded  by  some  as  infirmity 
of  purpose,  and  yet  apparently  they  marked  progress.  From 
Teniers  and  Ostade  to  Titian  and  Velasquez  was  certainly  a  step 
upward.  That  Wilkie  was  not  entirely  successful  was  due  more 
to  his  cramped  mental  attitude  than  to  his  technical  shortcomings. 
He  had  early  scaled  his  imagination  to  fit  the  "Rent  Day"  and 
the  "  Village  Festival,"  and  when  he  tried  to  do  "  Columbus  in  his 
Convent  "he  seemed  like  "a  man  out  of  his  depth,"  as  Delacroix 
expressed  it.  He  could  change  subjects  and  brushes  readily 
enough,  but  he  could  not  change  his  early  way  of  looking  at 
things.  Yet  his  Italian  manner  was  by  no  means  a  failure.  Those 
who  have  seen  his  late  portraits,  so  strong  in  characterization,  so 
swift  in  handling,  know  that  he  had  gained  something  by  the  con- 
tact with  Italy.  His  grasp  was  larger,  his  brush  was  broader, 
and  both  were  improvements  on  his  smaller  performances.  There 
are  those,  of  course,  who  like  the  little  picture  with  its  microscopical 
accuracy ;  and  the  more  suggestive  it  is  of  the  snuff-box  cover  the 
better  they  like  it.  People  in  Wilkie's  early  days  marveled  over  his 
faces  and  costumes  and  textures,  just  as  their  successors  of  to-day 
hang  breathless  over  Meissonier's  boots  and  buttons  and  cocked 


SIR     DAVID     WILKIE 


207 


hats.  And  there  is  no  denying  skill,  taste,  and  color  sense  in  these 
pictures.  Wilkie's  "  Boys  Digging  for  a  Rat"  is  remarkable  in  its 
drawing,  painting,  and  coloring;  and  the  "  Blind  Fiddler"  is  mas- 
terful in  composition.  He  was  a  good  workman,  and  (barring  his 
bitumen  habit,  which  was  a  common  failing  of  the  time)  he  could 
paint  a  picture  very  cleverly.  His  invention  was  ingenious,  his 
handling  facile  and  graceful,  his  coloring  quite  charming.  But,  after 
all,  painting  has  to  do  with  something  more  than  the  technician's 
skill.  It  must  have,  first  of  all,  a  largeness  of  view  which  Wilkie 
did  not  possess.  He  spent  most  of  his  artistic  life  looking  down  the 
small  end  of  the  opera-glass.  Finally  he  reversed  the  glass,  but 
it  was  dashed  from  his  hand  too  soon.  Perhaps  his  countrymen 
who  know  him  only  as  the  painter  of  the  "  Parish  Beadle  "  and  the 
"  Refusal"  do  no  injustice  to  his  artistic  nature.  He  was  at  heart 
a  painter  of  genre,  like  Mulready  and  Leslie,  though  superior  to 
either  of  them.  It  is  no  matter  for  regret  that  he  was  dissatisfied 
and  strove  for  nobler  things.  When  a  painter  is  content  with  him- 
self he  is  no  longer  progressing.  Wilkie  was  reaching  up  higher 
when  he  died. 


NOTES  BY  THE  ENGRAVER 


IT  would  be  difficult  to  say  whether  the 
picture  of  "  Boys  Digging  for  a  Rat  " 
was  painted  for  the  sake  of  the  pic- 
turesqueness  of  the  street  and  the  tender 
atmospheric  effect  which  it  exhibits,  or 
for  the  incident  from  which  the  canvas 
takes  its  name.  It  is  half-way,  as  a  com- 
position, between  the  view  of  a  street  — 
or  rather  alley  —  and  a  figure-piece.  If 
a  blank  sheet  of  paper  be  placed  over 
the  upper  half  of  the  engraving,  shutting 
out  all  beyond  a  line,  say,  that  would 
intercept  the  top  half  of  the  barrel 
above  the  head  of  the  boy  who  is  digging, 
it  will  be  seen  that  the  picture  instantly 
gains  fullness  and  completeness  as  a  com- 
position and  a  figure-piece.  Accustom 
the  eye  to  this  for  a  few  minutes,  and  on 
removing  the  sheet  I  think  it  will  be  felt 
that  there  is  an  unnecessary  amount  of 
space  above ;  that  the  rest  of  the  picture 


is  deserted,  and  that  these  four  boys  and 
three  dogs  represent  the  whole  of  the 
population  of  the  surrounding  district.  A 
Dutchman,  now,  would  have  made  some- 
body looking  out  of  the  top  window,  or 
one  or  two  figures  or  some  other  signs 
of  life  in  the  background,  and  would  thus 
have  connected  the  animation  of  the 
principal  group  with  other,  though  of 
course  lesser,  signs  of  life.  It  is  well 
known  how  little  it  takes  to  attract  the 
attention  of  neighbors;  how  instantly 
they  bob  up  on  the  slightest  pretext. 
Yet  here  the  artist  shows  an  excited 
group  of  boys  and  dogs,  that,  by  their 
ejaculations,  mingled  with  the  yelping 
of  the  mongrels,  would  surely  attract  the 
curiosity  of  others — some  other  young- 
ster at  least;  yet  we  glance  up  and  around, 
but  lo!  everything  has  a  dim,  lonely,  and 
deserted   aspect,  as   though    there   were 


208 


OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 


nobody  else  in  the  world  besides  this  bois- 
terous group. 

This  work,  however,  was  an  early  one 
by  Wilkie ;  in  none  of  his  other  works  is 
there  noticeable  this  want.  It  has  been 
remarked  that  there  is  a  dog,  sometimes 
two  or  more,  in  almost  every  single  in- 
stance of  the  painter's  earlier  works ;  and 
these  animals  are  not  put  in  merely  for 
effect  or  to  fill  up  a  blank  space,  but 
always  have  some  part  to  play  in  the 
scene ;  which  remark  receives  abundant 
confirmation  in  the  present  instance,  as 
also  in  the  "  Refusal,"  where  the  animal 
beneath  the  chair  appears  quite  in  sym- 
pathy with  the  glum  looks  of  his  master. 

The  first  "named  picture  is  a  small  one, 
perhaps  four  times  as  large  as  the  engrav- 
ing, low  in  tone  and  rich  in  coloring,  and 
hangs  in  the  Diploma  Gallery  at  Burling- 
ton House. 

The  painting  by  Wilkie  which  hangs  in 
the  South  Kensington  Museum,  Sheep- 
shanks's  gift,  under  the  title  of  the  "  Re- 
fusal," is  an  inspiration  from  Burns's  song 
of  Duncan  Gray: 

Duncan  Gray  cam'  here  to  woo  — 

Ha,  ha !  the  wooing  o'  't, 
On  blythe  Yule  night  when  we  were  fou  — 

Ha,  ha!  the  wooing  o'  't! 
Maggie  coost  her  head  fu'  high, 
Looked  asklent  and  unco  skeigh  [dignified], 
Gart  poor  Duncan  stand  abeigh  [aloof]  — 

Ha,  ha!  the  wooing  o'  't ! 

There  is  nothing  incomprehensible 
about  the  picture.  It  appeals,  like  the 
song,  directly  to  the  sympathies  of  all. 
The  dislike  and  hesitancy  of  the  young 
woman  are  expressed  not  only  in  the 
face,  but  throughout  the  whole  person. 
In  her  antipathy  she  has  moved  to  the 
edge  of  the  chair,  and  turned  away  with 
coldness  and  aversion.  Some  think  there 
is  indecision  rather  than  refusal  shown  in 
her  gesture.  The  attitude  of  the  wooer, 
however,  speaks  forcibly  enough  of  the 
apparent  blow  he  has  received  to  his 
hopes.     The  dog  beneath  the  chair,  in 


his  lugubrious  look,  repeats  in  a  way  the 
disappointment  depicted  in  his  master's 
countenance.  The  hand  of  the  lover, 
brought  so  naturally  and  expressively  to 
the  face,  tells  with  effect  in  the  compo- 
sition, increasing  the  volume  of  light  in 
this  spot,  and  thereby  giving  to  it  due 
bulk  and  importance;  also  observe  that 
the  little  finger  of  this  hand,  following  the 
direction  of  the  eyes  and  pointing  directly 
to  the  head  of  the  object  of  regard,  aids 
powerfully  in  connecting  the  two  figures. 
Then  the  gentle  and  persuasive  demeanor 
in  the  old  parents  is  admirably  shown. 
They  evidently  sympathize  with  the  dis- 
appointment of  their  guest,  considering 
—  which  is  rare — their  beautiful  daugh- 
ter as 

A  creature  not  loo  bright  or  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food, 

though,  what  is  more  likely,  they  may 
not  be  unmindful  that  not  among  the 
least  commendable  qualities  of  the  goodly 
swain  is  his  sound  financial  standing : 

For  he  has  that  they  would  be  at, 
And  will  commend  him  weel ; 

Since  parents  auld  think  love  grows  cauld 
Where  bairns  want  milk  and  meal. 

There  are  five  individuals  that  figure 
in  this  scene :  the  two  young  people  and 
the  two  old  ones  and — the  one  behind 
the  door  that  stands  ajar — the  eaves- 
dropper ! 

The  coloring  of  the  whole  is  low,  rich, 
and  warm.  The  interior,  which  shows  a 
Scotch  peasant's  cottage  with  its  low 
ceiling  of  heavy  beams,  is  of  a  bituminous 
depth  of  tone,  into  which  the  warm 
brownish  dress  of  the  old  man  and  black 
coat  of  the  young  one  softly  float.  The 
latter's  waistcoat  is  of  a  soft,  rich  red,  and 
his  breeches  of  a  yellowish  neutral  hue. 
The  delicate  warm  lilac  tone,  so  very 
neutral,  of  the  dress  of  the  girl,  and  the 
mellow  creamy  white  of  her  sack,  relieved 
by  the  rich  dark  dress  of  the  mother  and 


DIGGING    FOR    RATS,    BY    SIR    DAVID    WILKIE 

DIPLOMA    GALLERY,    ROYAL    ACADEMY,    L< 


SIR     DAVID     WILKIli 


209 


the  brightly  colored  scarf  hanging  over 
the  back  of  the  chair,  is  a  fine,  harmonious 
bit  of  color.  The  warm  gray  of  the  floor 
and  the  wall,  where  hangs  the  scrap-bag, 
and  the  pewter  jug  near  the  salt-box,  are 
about  the  same  tone,  though  the  floor  is 
the  lighter  value.  The  mahogany  table, 
with  its  trinket-box  and  basket  beneath, 
are  details  as  beautifully  executed  as  any 
by  the  old  Dutchmen,  and  the  atmosphere 
is  delicately  felt  between  these  objects 
and  those  upon  the  wall  in  the  back- 
ground, as  well  as  the  atmospheric  quality 


of  the  other  room,  seen  through  the 
square  of  the  open  doorway  behind  the 
head  of  the  young  man. 

This  canvas  is  as  fine  an  instance  as 
any  of  the  artist's  power  of  chiaroscuro. 
It  was  painted  in  the  winter  of  1813,  and 
exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy  the  fol- 
lowing spring.  Owing  to  the  use  of  bitu- 
men in  its  painting,  it  fell  into  a  dilapidated 
state,  but  has  been  successfully  restored. 
It  is  on  a  panel,  and  measures  twenty-one 
and  a  half  by  twenty-five  and  three  quar- 
ter inches.  T.  C. 


CHARLES   ROBERT   LESLIE 


CHAPTER   XVII 

CHARLES  ROBERT  LESLIE 
(1794-1859) 

LESLIE,  both  as  a  painter  and  as  a  writer  about  painters,  is 
entitled  to  "honorable  mention"  in  any  history  of  English 
/  art.  He  was  not  a  "gold-medal"  man, — not  one  of  the 
leaders  of  new  movements, —  but  he  had  his  place  in  the  Academy 
group,  and  was  a  recognized  factor  in  the  artistic  and  social  life  of 
his  time.  There  are  men — worthy  men,  too — who  reflect  rather 
than  create  epochs.  They  are  not  great  inventors  in  themselves, 
but  they  profit  by  all  that  is  invented,  and  become  well  versed  in 
method,  clever  in  exposition,  representative  in  theme.  England, 
like  every  other  country,  has  produced  men  of  this  kind,  and  Leslie 
is  perhaps  not  improperly  classed  among  them. 

He  was  born  in  London,  October  19,  1794,  but  his  parents  were 
Americans  who  only  the  year  before  the  painter's  birth  had  come 
from  Philadelphia.  The  father  was  a  clockmaker,  and  had  hoped 
to  increase  his  business  by  moving  to  London.  After  half  a  dozen 
years  the  Leslies  returned  to  Philadelphia,  where  the  elder  died 
in  1804,  somewhat  embarrassed  financially.  Through  the  kindness 
of  friends  Leslie  received  the  academic  education  of  the  day,  and, 
always  fond  of  drawing,  would  have  studied  art,  but  was  too  poor  to 
do  so.  At  fourteen  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  publishing  firm,  and 
while  an  apprentice  he  made  from  memory  a  portrait  of  Cooke,  the 
actor,  which  attracted  the  attention  of  one  of  the  firm,  who  took  it 
to  the  Exchange  Coffee-House  for  exhibition.  There  the  portrait 
so  astonished  the  natives  that  a  subscription  was  raised  to  enable 
Leslie  to  study  art  in  Europe.  He  had  had  some  lessons  from 
Thomas  Sully  in  Philadelphia,  and  when  he  reached  London  his 
letters  to  his  fellow-townsman  Benjamin  West,  then  president  of 

213 


214  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

the  Royal  Academy,  gained  him  special  privileges.  He  at  once 
began  studying  in  the  schools  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  took  for 
a  chum  and  fellow-student  the  youthful  Morse,  who  was  then 
studying  painting,  but  was  afterward  to  become  famous  as  the  in- 
ventor of  the  telegraph.  They  studied  the  Elgin  Marbles  together, 
and  received  instruction  in  painting  from  West  and  Washington 
Allston.  Leslie  soon  made  friends  in  literary  and  art  circles.  He 
met  Coleridge,  and  became  intimate  with  Washington  Irving  and 
John  Constable.  His  instructors  in  art  and  his  associates,  naturally 
enough,  urged  him  toward  the  production  of  serious  art, —  "his- 
torical" art,  it  was  then  called, — and  it  was  not  long  before  Leslie 
turned  out  a  "Saul  and  the  Witch  of  Endor,"  which  was  rejected  at 
the  British  Gallery,  and  a  "Timon,"  which  was  exhibited  in  1813. 
The  "Timon"  was  afterward  rechristened  "Murder,"  and  repre- 
sented "a  man  coming  from  a  cave  at  midnight,  holding  a  drawn 
sword  in  one  hand  and  his  breath  with  the  other."  It  was  not  a 
success.  The  "  Death  of  Rutland,"  produced  a  few  years  later,  and 
for  which  the  young  Landseer  served  as  a  model,  was  better ;  but 
nothing  that  he  did  at  this  time  was  of  real  importance. 

In  181 7  Leslie  was  in  Paris  with  Allston  and  William  Collins, 
and  while  there  painted  some  portraits  of  American  friends ;  but  it 
was  not  until  the  next  year  that  he  scored  his  first  success  and  showed 
his  true  field  of  labor  in  the  picture  called  "Sir  Roger  de  Coverley 
Going  to  Church."  It  was  the  incident-picture  which  had  proved 
so  fetching  in  the  hands  of  Wilkie,  Mulready,  and  others,  and  which 
was  to  make  Leslie  well  known  in  his  day  and  generation.  At  this 
time  he  was  also  working  in  black  and  white,  making  illustrations  for 
Irving's  "Knickerbocker  History  of  New  York"  and  the  "Sketch- 
Book."  In  1 82 1  he  painted  the  "May-Day  Revels  in  the  Time 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,"  a  picture  which  greatly  pleased  Scott.  He 
afterward  visited  Abbotsford  with  Landseer,  painted  Sir  Walter's 
portrait,  and  made  some  illustrations  for  the  Waverley  Novels. 
He  had  now  begun  painting  his  illustrative  pictures  in  sequences. 
"Sancho  Panza  in  the  Apartment  of  the  Duchess"  (1824)  was  the 
first  of  the  Don  Quixote  series,  and  the  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley 
theme  was  shortly  added  to  by  the  celebrated  "  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  among  the  Gipsies."  These  were  very  popular  pictures, 
and  Leslie  soon  found  himself  and  his  painting  the  town  talk.  He 
was  elected  a  Royal  Academician  in  1826,  painting  the  beautiful 
"Queen  Catharine  of  Aragon  and  her  Maid"  as  his  diploma  pic- 


CATHARINE    OF   ARAGON    AND    MAID,    BY    C.    K.    LESLIE. 

DIPLOMA    ■     lLLERY,    I     i\'AL    ACADEMY,    LONDON. 


CHARLES    ROHERT    LESLIE  215 

ture,  and  he  had  been  happily  married  to  a  Miss  Harriet  Stone  the 
year  previous;  so  that,  all  told,  he  had  reason  to  congratulate  him- 
self. In  the  years  immediately  succeeding  his  marriage  he  painted 
"Uncle  Toby  and  the  Widow  Wadman,"  the  "Dinner  at  Mrs. 
Page's  House,"  and  the  "  Taming  of  the  Shrew"  —  pictures  which 
have  been  widely  circulated  through  engravings. 

Leslie  was  unusually  successful  in  London,  and  yet  in  1833  he 
was  induced  to  accept  the  appointment  of  professor  of  drawing  in 
the  United  States  Military  Academy  at  West  Point.  Six  months 
of  teaching  sufficed  him,  and  he  returned  to  England,  where  he 
once  more  took  up  the  painting  of  the  incident-picture.  In  1838 
he  went  to  Windsor  to  paint  "The  Queen  Receiving  the  Sacra- 
ment at  her  Coronation"  and  the  "Christening  of  the  Princess 
Royal."  He  afterward  painted  scenes  from  "Comus"  and  "The 
Vicar  of  Wakefield."  His  "Memoirs  of  John  Constable"  ap- 
peared in  1848,  and  three  years  later  he  became  professor  of  paint- 
ing in  the  Royal  Academy.  The  lectures  at  the  Academy  were 
published  under  the  title  of  "Handbook  for  Young  Painters,"  and 
were  very  well  received.  Delicate  health  caused  him  to  resign  this 
professorship  in  1852,  and  thereafter  he  confined  himself  to  paint- 
ing and  writing.  His  latest  pictures  were  "Hermione,"  "  Sir  Roger 
de  Coverley  in  Church,"  "Hotspur  and  Lady  Percy,"  and  "Jeanie 
Deans  and  Queen  Caroline."  He  died  May  5,  1859,  the  day  after 
the  exhibition  at  the  Academy  had  opened.  His  "  Life  of  Rey- 
nolds" and  his  "Autobiographical  Recollections"  were  completed 
and  published,  after  his  death,  by  Tom  Taylor. 

Thirty  of  his  works  were  exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy  in 
1870.  He  was  not  a  prolific  painter,  and  his  total  contribution  to 
the  Academy  exhibitions  during  his  life  was  only  seventy-odd  can- 
vases. Some  of  these  were  portraits  of  men  and  women  of  the 
time  —  perfunctory  work  usually,  for  he  was  not  interested  in  por- 
traiture as  such.  He  preferred  to  illustrate  scenes  from  poetry  and 
fiction,  and  was  really  a  painter  of  history  in  the  little.  Even  in  this 
his  range  was  not  wide.  He  contented  himself  with  many  replicas 
of  such  favorite  works  as  the  Sancho  Panza  and  the  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  series.  But  if  his  output  was  not  large  in  quantity  or 
quality,  it  was  always  marked  by  skill  and  care.  He  was  a  very 
good  draftsman,  if  at  times  over-precise  and  sharp,  and  as  a  painter 
he  could  handle  surfaces  easily  and  gracefully.  In  these  days,  when 
it  is  the  fashion  in  some  quarters  to  paint  with  wax  or  with  as  little 


2l6 


OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 


oil  as  possible,  so  as  to  produce  a  dull,  tapestry-like  surface,  the 
painting  of  Leslie  might  be  spoken  of  as  wet  or  "slippery"  ;  but  in 
Leslie's  day  it  was  accounted  very  good  work.  It  was  acceptable 
painting  for  any  day,  and  was  invariably  marked  by  good  taste  and 
sound  judgment. 

With  skill,  considerable  humor,  and  a  large  fund  of  common 
sense  to  draw  from,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  was  a  popular 
painter.  He  would  have  been  welcomed  in  any  land,  at  any  time. 
It  is  the  great  genius,  the  leader,  or  the  innovator  who  meets  with 
public  scorn,  and  Leslie  was  none  of  these.  He  was  simply  a 
rational  being  and  an  accomplished  craftsman,  who  accepted  the 
light  of  his  day  and  made  the  most  of  it. 


NOTES   BY   THE   ENGRAVER 


THE  "Queen  Catharine  of  Aragon 
and  her  Maid  "  is  one  of  the  most 
serious  of  Leslie's  pictures.  It  measures 
twenty  by  twenty-two  and  a  half  inches, 
and  hangs  in  the  Diploma  Gallery,  Bur- 
lington House,  London. 

Queen  Catharine  of  Aragon,  daughter  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella  of  Spain,  was  born 
in  1485  at  Alcala  de  Henares,  Spain,  and 
died  at  Kimbolton  Castle,  England,  in 
1536.  She  was  first  of  the  six  queens  of 
Henry  VIII,  to  whom  she  was  married  in 
1509.  The  picture  shows  the  unfortunate 
and  melancholy  lady  in  her  last  days  at 
her  final  place  of  virtual  imprisonment,  ac- 
companied by  her  faithful  friend, —  at  one 
time  among  her  maids  of  honor  from 
Spain, —  Lady  Willoughby,  formerly  Maria 
de  Salinas,  who  found  means  to  be  ad- 
mitted to  the  queen  without  a  passport  a 
week  before  her  death,  and  who  remained 
with  her  thenceforward  to  the  end. 


The  queen,  though  of  strong  con- 
stitution, had  little  heart  for  outdoor 
sport,  and  preferred  rather  to  occupy 
and  distract  her  mind  with  needlework. 
She  was  in  all  respects  a  faithful  and 
exemplary  wife,  and  possessed  of  con- 
siderable learning.  Her  natural  piety 
was  nursed  by  misfortune  from  her  ear- 
liest years  and  the  neglect  and  shameful 
injustice  of  her  husband.  She  died,  it  is 
said,  of  cancer  of  the  heart,  for  on  her 
embalming,  the  heart  was  found  black- 
ened and  corroded  throughout. 

That  she  was  a  devoted  student  of  the 
Bible  Erasmus  has  left  on  record ;  and 
it  is  remarkable  that  the  great  scholar 
dedicated  to  her,  in  1526  (just  one  year 
before  the  king's  project  of  a  divorce  was 
talked  about),  his  work  on  "Christian 
Matrimony,"  which  it  is  supposed  he 
wrote  at  her  suggestion. 

T.  C. 


SIR   EDWIN    HENRY   LANDSEER 


PORTRAIT   OF    DR.    JOHN    ALLEN,    BY    SIR    EDWIN    LANDSEER. 

NATIONAL    FOR  I  RAH     CALLERS',    LONDON. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

SIR    EDWIN    HENRY    LANDSEER 
(1802-1873) 

THE  most  precocious  and  perhaps  the  most  popular  of  all  our  old 
English  masters  was  Sir  Edwin  Landseer — the  last  painter 
upon  our  list.  He  was  acclaimed  a  genius  long  before  he 
reached  man's  estate,  and  during  the  seventy  years  of  his  life  he 
painted  pictures  that  were  circulated  through  engravings  in  all  the 
countries  of  Christendom.  A  quarter  of  a  century  ago  scarcely  a 
house  in  America  but  had  an  engraving  of  the  "  Stag  at  Bay"  hang- 
ing in  the  library,  and  every  sportsman  can  remember  when  the 
"Monarch  of  the  Glen"  was  beaten  in  relief  upon  powder-flasks 
and  scratched  on  gun-locks.  Several  generations  absorbed  art  and 
natural  history  at  the  feet  of  Sir  Edwin,  and  to-day  there  are  those 
who  class  him  with  Dr.  John  Brown  as  one  of  the  few  mortals  who 
understood  the  nature  of  the  animal.  It  is  not  often  that  an  artist 
attains  such  wide-spread  popularity,  and  usually  there  are  reasons 
for  it  other  than  artistic.  It  was  so  in  Landseer's  case.  He  forced 
the  note  of  animal  life  (especially  the  dog)  by  humanizing  it,  giving 
it  emotions  and  sentiments  pertinent  to  humanity,  making  it  tell  a 
sentimental  or  a  funny  story.  And  he  forced  the  note  of  art  by  a 
"  smart "  painting  of  surfaces  and  textures  which  disguised  a  want 
of  depth,  covered  up  a  lack  of  substance.  Not  that  Landseer  was 
always  superficial,  but  that  his  popularity  was  gained  by  his  least 
meritorious  performances.  It  is  an  old  story  in  art.  Correggio  is 
still  popularly  known  as  the  painter  of  that  sugary  little  "Reading 
Magdalene"  at  Dresden  —  a  picture  that  he  never  saw;  and  Millet, 
who  had  a  command  of  line  worthy  of  Michelangelo,  lives  in  the 
popular  mind  as  the  painter  of  the  "  Angelus,"  an  exaggerated  story 
in  paint  done  in  the  artist's  poorest  manner. 

219 


220  OLD    ENGLISH    MASTERS 

Landseer  was  born  in  London,  March  7,  1802.  His  father 
believed  in  no  education  for  an  artist  except  nature,  and  early  took 
the  boy  into  the  fields  to  sketch  donkeys  and  goats.  Some  of  his 
drawings,  done  at  the  age  of  six,  are  now  in  the  South  Kensington 
Museum,  and  at  ten  he  could  paint  and  etch  in  a  creditable  manner, 
as  his  "Brown  Mastiff" — which  sold  at  Sir  John  Swinburne's  sale 
in  1861  for  seventy  guineas — still  attests.  He  was  taking  prizes 
in  drawing  when  he  was  eleven,  and  at  thirteen  he  was  an  exhibitor 
at  the  Royal  Academy.  He  entered  the  schools  of  the  Academy 
as  a  student  in  18 16,  and  the  next  year  his  "  Sleeping  Dog,"  at  the 
Society  of  Painters  in  Oils  and  Water- Colors,  created  a  stir.  He 
began  by  painting  animals,  and  at  first  dealt  with  them  almost  ex- 
clusively. Lions  and  tigers  interested  him,  and  the  dog  was  his 
favorite  theme.  Haydon  advised  him  to  become  the  English  Sny- 
ders,  and  to  study  Raphael's  Cartoons  and  the  Elgin  Marbles ;  but 
Landseer  had  already  taken  his  bent  and  was  not  influenced  by 
this  questionable  advice.  He  was  only  a  boy,  but  already  a  suc- 
cessful animal-painter.  Every  one  wondered  at  his  artistic  insight ; 
every  one  praised  his  skill. 

At  twenty-two  he  was  at  Abbotsford,  sketching  Sir  Walter 
and  his  hounds.  The  portrait  of  Scott  by  Landseer,  now  in  the 
National  Portrait  Gallery,  is  not  finished  like  the  "Dr.  John  Allen" 
which  Mr.  Cole  has  engraved,  and  perhaps  for  that  reason  it  has  a 
finer  artistic  feeling,  is  freer  in  handling  and  better  in  color.  It  is 
one  of  Landseer's  very  good  things,  and  suggests  an  artistic  des- 
tiny which  he  never  entirely  fulfilled.  Popularity  turned  his  brush 
in  another  direction,  and  the  trip  to  Scotland  changed  his  subject 
somewhat.  He  became  fond  of  deer,  mountains,  and  Scotch 
heather,  paying  less  attention  to  lions  and  tigers,  but  always  cling- 
ing to  the  dog.  He  now  began  painting  the  dog  in  connection 
with  his  master  in  such  pictures  as  "  Chevy  Chase "  and  the 
"Deer-Stalker's  Return";  and,  after  he  had  been  made  a  Royal 
Academician  in  1831,  he  began  to  burlesque  his  subject  in  such 
popular  successes  as  "High  Life"  and  "Low  Life,"  "Jack  in 
Office"  and  "Laying  Down  the  Law" — all  of  them  pictures  of 
dogs,  posed  in  imitation  of  humanity,  as  the  titles  suggest.  All  his 
life  the  dog  furnished  material  for  his  art.  Apparently  he  dressed 
him  up  and  made  a  clown  of  him  to  please  the  public,  and  occa- 
sionally he  painted  his  real  nature  as  though  to  assure  himself  that 
he  was  not  wandering  too  far  afield.     The  "  Sleeping  Bloodhound" 


SIR    EDWIN    HENRY    LANDSEER  221 

is  an  illustration  of  the  true  dog,  with  nothing  funny  or  senti- 
mental about  him,  and  it  is  to-day  one  of  Sir  Edwin's  best  pic- 
tures—  a  fine  bulk  of  body  and  a  good  piece  of  painting. 

In  1840  he  went  abroad  for  his  health,  and  during  the  years 
following  he  produced  "Peace  and  War,"  "Diogenes,"  and  "Shoe- 
ing the  Bay  Mare  "  —  canvases  that  have  little  to  recommend  them 
either  in  material  or  in  method.  The  "Monarch  of  the  Glen  "  was 
painted  in  1S51  for  the  refreshment-room  of  the  House  of  Lords, 
but  the  Commons  refused  the  price.  It  afterward  sold  for  seven 
thousand  pounds.  The  stag  fights,  called  "Night"  and  "Morning," 
followed,  and  with  these  pictures  Landseer  virtually  reached  his 
height.  He  was  knighted  in  1850,  and  in  1855  he  received  the 
large  gold  medal  at  the  Paris  Exhibition.  Ten  years  later  he 
was  offered  the  presidency  of  the  Royal  Academy,  but  he  had 
suffered  much  from  mental  depression  and  declined  the  new  respon- 
sibility. He  never  completely  recovered  from  a  nervous  collapse 
experienced  in  i860,  and  after  that  date  he  did  only  one  important 
work,  and  that  the  modeling  of  the  noble  lions  for  the  Nelson 
monument  in  Trafalgar  Square.  Death  came  to  him  October  1, 
1873,  and  he  was  buried  in  St.  Paul's  with  public  honors.  His  last 
portrait  was  of  the  Queen;  his  last  drawing  was  of  a  dog. 

Socially  Landseer  was  a  success  from  the  start.  He  knew  the 
"best  people,"  and  early  in  life  began  painting  portraits  of  the 
nobility.  The  Dukes  of  Bedford,  Gordon,  Athole,  and  Devonshire 
sat  to  him,  he  painted  the  Queen  and  the  royal  family  a  number 
of  times,  and  he  taught  the  Queen  and  Prince  Albert  how  to  etch. 
He  also  painted  many  children's  portraits,  with  such  titles  as 
"  Little  Red  Riding  Hood,"  "  Naughty  Child,"  and  the  like,  using 
almost  always  dogs  or  birds  as  adjuncts  to  the  figure.  After  1839 
he  painted  some  celebrated  likenesses  of  young  girls,  including 
those  of  Miss  Peel,  Miss  Egerton,  and  Princess  Mary  of  Cambridge. 
Society  called  on  him  many  times  for  portraits,  and  he  executed 
some  of  uncommon  excellence;  yet  for  them  he  won  only  small 
applause.  The  public  liked  him  best  as  an  animal-painter,  and 
praised  his  dogs,  especially  the  hard  porcelain  ones  like  the  "King 
Charles  Spaniel "  in  the  National  Gallery,  or  the  soft  sentimental 
ones  like  the  hound  in  the  picture  called  "Suspense."  There  is 
little  justice  to  the  painter  in  such  a  judgment.  At  his  best  he  was 
a  good  draftsman  and  a  very  facile  handler  of  the  brush.  "The 
Shepherd's  Chief  Mourner"  shows  him  to  advantage,  and  in  the 


222  OLD  ENGLISH  MASTERS 

English  country  houses  one  occasionally  meets  with  portraits  by 
him  that  are  exceedingly  clever.  His  rapidity  of  workmanship  was 
remarkable.  The  "  Sleeping  Bloodhound  "  was  painted  in  three 
days,  and  it  is  recorded  that  he  often  did  a  picture  in  a  day.  His 
works  suffered  little  by  reproduction,  for  his  color  was  usually  cold. 
The  sale  of  engravings  after  his  pictures  was  something  enormous. 
No  fewer  than  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  engravers  were 
employed  on  his  works  at  different  times.  Besides  engravings 
made  from  his  canvases,  he  executed  many  illustrations  for  the 
Waverley  Novels,  for  Rogers's  "  Italy,"  and  for  various  sporting 
books  and  journals.  His  pencil  and  brush  were  always  busy,  and 
they  brought  him  more  than  the  average  pecuniary  reward  of  the 
artist.  After  his  death  his  estate  figured  up  over  two  hundred 
thousand  pounds. 

All  told,  Sir  Edwin's  career  was  remarkably  successful,  but  there 
is  a  sharp  line  of  demarcation  to  be  drawn  between  his  popular 
success  and  his  artistic  success.  The  latter  was  not  slight.  He 
had  the  artistic  sense,  but  in  the  roar  of  applause  that  went  up  over 
the  caricatured  dog  it  was  lost  to  sight  and  forgotten  save  by  his 
fellow-craftsmen. 


NOTES   BY   THE    ENGRAVER 

JOHN  ALLEN,  M.D.,  was  a  political  coloring.  The  background,  where  a 
and  historical  writer,  and  author  of  bronze  bust  of  Cromwell  is  seen,  is  warm 
"  An  Inquiry  into  the  Rise  and  Growth  and  deep,  and  blends  very  softly  into  the 
of  the  Royal  Prerogative  in  England,"  very  dark  blue  coat.  The  pantaloons  are 
published  in  1830.  He  was  born  near  grayer  and  warmer,  and  over  the  knee  is 
Edinburgh  in  1771,  and  apprenticed  thrown  a  reddish,  spotted  handkerchief 
there  to  a  surgeon.  In  1802  he  joined  of  an  exceedingly  tender  neutral  tone, 
Lord  Holland  as  medical  friend  and  cast  as  it  is  in  the  shade.  The  chair  is  a 
companion  during  a  tour  in  France  and  soft  tone  of  red  leather,  and  the  cushioned 
Spain.  From  this  period  he  became  a  stool  by  it  is  a  deeper  tone  of  the  same, 
fixed  inmate  of  Holland  House,  varied  while  the  books  piled  upon  it  are  rich 
only  by  an  occasional  residence  at  Dul-  yet  unobtrusive  shades  of  brownish  and 
wich  College,  of  which  he  was  war-  yellowish  hues.  The  mellow  tones  of  the 
den  from  181 1  to  1820,  and  master  flesh  blend  agreeably  with  the  grayish- 
from  that  year  until  his  death,  which  hap-  white  color  of  the  waistcoat.  All  the 
pened  in  1843,  at  South  Street,  London,  tones,  which  are  few  and  simple,  are  skil- 
The  portrait  is  a  small  picture,  twenty-  fully  and  harmoniously  blended,  and  con- 
three  and  a  half  inches  high  by  seven-  siderable  brilliancy  is  attained  in  the  man- 
teen  and  a  half  inches  wide,  very  agement  of  the  light  and  shade, 
smooth  and  neat  in  painting  and  rich  in  Everything  in  the  picture  is  subdued 


VI         O 


2       2 


2; 

r- 

vi 


SIR    EDWIN    HENRY    LANDSEER 


223 


and  pleasant  to  look  at,  as  though  the 
artist  had  been  solicitous  that  nothing 
should  disturb  the  sentiment  of  peace  and 
comfortable  study  that  is  so  successfully 
depicted.  It  is  an  inquiry  into  the  rise 
and  growth  of  the  royal  prerogative  in 
England  that  we  see  progressing,  whose 
charmed  spell  not  even  the  regicide  Crom- 
well, bristling  in  armor,  is  potent  to  dis- 
turb, but  whose  turbulent  presentment,  on 
the  contrary,  serves  but  to  accentuate  the 
air  of  tranquillity  that  reigns  in  this  peace- 
ful and  substantial  kingdom  of  books. 

The  portrait  was  painted  for  Lady 
Holland,  and  was  presented  to  the  Na- 
tional Portrait  Gallery  in  1873  by  the 
widow  of  General  Fox. 

"  The  Shepherd's  Chief  Mourner"  is  one 
of  the  truest  and  most  touching  of  pictures 
from  the  sentiment  of  pathos  which  it  em- 
bodies, and  which  goes  directly  to  the 
heart.  It  speaks  a  language  that  is  clear  to 
everyone, —  that  of  love  and  fidelity, — 
and  Landseer  utters  it  with  true  elo- 
quence. Here  is  shown  the  dismal  in- 
terior, the  empty  chair  beside  the  bed, 
the  stool  with  the  Bible  and  spectacles 
upon  it,  with  near  by  —  on  the  floor  — 
the  cap  and  staff  of  the  shepherd.  But 
that  which,  of  course,  rivets  the  attention 
to  the  exclusion  of  all  else  is  the  coffin 
and  the  faithful  dog,  alone,  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  gloom,  with  the  light  sifting 


gently  through  a  small  window  and  fall- 
ing directly  upon  the  white  pall  that 
covers  the  dead  and  that  relieves  the 
head  of  the  mourner.  One  can  easily 
imagine  that  the  artist,  with  equal  truth 
and  propriety,  might  have  shown  the  dog 
howling ;  but  then,  how  much  more  mov- 
ing is  the  present  attitude,  which  expresses 
the  idea  of  a  subdued  grief  too  deep  for 
utterance  or  for  tears. 

Nor  wild  nor  loud  is  his  burst  of  woe, 
But  the  tide  of  anguish  is  far  below. 

We  can  linger  long  before  this  picture, 
musing  upon  the  living  and  suffering  ani- 
mal. It  points  at  once  to  nature  and  to 
nature's  God.  It  not  only  suggests 
prayer,  but  it  is  prayer,  and  doubtless  is 
heard  by  Him  who  is  not  unmindful  even 
of  the  fall  of  a  sparrow : 

Who  gave  that  love  sublime, 
And  gave  that  strength  of  feeling  great 
Above  all  human  estimate. 

The  picture,  measuring  eighteen  by 
twenty-four  inches,  was  painted  in  1837, 
when  the  artist  was  thirty-five  years  old, 
and  by  it  he  achieved  a  success  of  the 
most  worthy  and  enduring  kind.  It  hangs 
in  the  South  Kensington  Museum  of 
London,  in  the  collection  known  as  the 
Sheepshanks  Gift.  T.  C. 


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